


Great Wide Somewhere

by shortystylee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crockpot Slow Burn, F/M, Finally Some Smut, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, how I spent my summer vacation, lots of hiking, man-bun!Gendry, the slowest of burns i'm so sorry, what could go wrong?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortystylee/pseuds/shortystylee
Summary: Arya had usually went along with Gendry’s ideas in the past, but hiking the entirety of the Northlands Trail? She'd figured he was just daydreaming... after all, he'd be done with his masters soon and would start teaching at the university as his main gig in the fall. Maybe he just wanted a vacation this summer before real life started.But no, as it turned out, he was serious.Being stuck in a tent in the wilderness all summer with her best friend who she was in love with? Great, just great.





	1. Great Wide Somewhere

She thought he was joking, and that this was just another one of his dumbass ideas he always got when the night turned late and they'd drank too much. Not all his ideas were horrible, not even when he convinced her to try dipping fries in Wendy's Frosties, and some were amazing, like driving twelve hours in his piece of shit pickup truck all the way from Kings Landing to Highgarden to Sunspear for two Brotherhood concerts in just as many days. She’d always sort of hated the way the truck cap looked, but she was thankful for that trip since they ended up sleeping in rest areas in the truck bed both nights.  
  
But hiking the entirety of the Northlands Trail? She'd figured he was just daydreaming... after all, he'd be done with his masters soon and would start teaching at the university as his main gig in the fall. Maybe he just wanted a vacation this summer before real life started. _A short vacation_ , she thought. _Hang out at some sunny beach spot in Dorne for a long weekend. Maybe check out Six Flags Highgarden_.  
  
But no, as it turned out, he was serious. When she wakes up the next morning and checks her phone, she’s treated to an email of spectacular length, full of plans he'd cooked up, excerpts from Northlands Trail blogs, the official National Parks of Westeros site, a Google sheets document, and dozens of links to camping gear... and the whole email had correct spelling, grammar, and formatting, practically halfway to a thesis on the trail. Too much to read on her phone screen, she pulls out her laptop and finishes reading on its larger screen. _This is definitely not something he typed up at 3am after I walked home_. She hits print, grabbing the ten sheets of paper, and drives the couple of blocks over to his apartment, hoping he’d already be awake.  
  
"You're serious," she says when he opens the door, not letting him get his greeting out first. She holds out the papers she had printed and waves them around to get his attention like she was trying to sell newspapers on the street. He grabs them from her as she continues into his apartment, making a beeline for the kitchen, as per usual, and begins rummaging through his fridge.  
  
"Of course, I'm serious. I want to hike the Northlands Trail and I want you with me."  
  
"But why me? You've got other friends. What about Hot Pie?" She pulls a large carton of orange juice out of the fridge, then pushes herself onto the countertop, going up on her knees to grab two glasses out of a cabinet.  
  
"He's got the bakery to take care of, he can't just take the whole summer off work, especially not now that he's assistant manager."  
  
"And I can?" She sits on the counter, feet dangling off, and pours the orange juice into the two glasses, holding one out to him.  
  
"Why can't you? Come on, Ar, this type of thing is right up your alley. You're graduating in three months too... This is the perfect time. What else are you gonna do all summer? Man the espresso machine at Indigo?"  
  
She’s been purposely putting up a bit of a resistance, but starts to soften. _He has a point_. She's always wanted to do it, her uncle Benjen hiked through the entire trail about ten years ago and the stories he tells are still one her favorite parts of his visits.  
  
"You'll love it,” Gendry continues. “I want to get away from this stupid city for a few months, see all this country has to offer before I'm stuck in front of a lecture podium the rest of my life. I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, and there's no one else I can imagine sharing all of that with."  
  
She sets her glass down on the counter and narrows her eyes at him.  
  
"Okay, that was a line from a Beauty and the Beast song, but still... where's my Arya who has a sense of adventure?" He takes the few steps across the kitchen, leaning against the counter directly opposite from her, his arms folded across his chest. “Come on, Ar, all I wanna do is have a little fun before I die.”  
  
_And now he’s pouting. Ugh, fuck, those eyes could convince me to do anything._  
  
“Gendry, you’re only twenty-six. You’re nowhere near dying,” she says, ignoring the obvious Sheryl Crow lyrics.  
  
Ever since she woke up that morning, she's been trying to think of a reason to say no, but there isn’t really a valid one that she’s come up with. _Okay, so there’s the chance that we get lost and starve to death, get mauled by a bear… but that’s being a bit dramatic_. She could easily skip a summer’s worth of shifts at Indigo, and she had planned on quitting at the end of the summer anyway, when her graduate classes were set to begin and she’d have to start teaching some classes. _And let’s face it, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the entire summer with._  
  
“Let’s do it,” she answers. She chugs down the rest of her orange juice and pushes herself off the counter.  
  
“You’re serious?”  
  
She nods her agreement, and he rushes over, hugging her furiously. “Gods, I fucking love you, Arya. You’re the best, for real,” he declares, the excitement obvious in his voice. Her heart always gave a little fluttery jerk when he said he loves her. She knows he means it, but dammit, she also knows there isn’t the meaning behind it that she wishes for. He loves her the way he loves his cousin Shireen, or his other best friend Hot Pie, the way he loves being front and center at a concert, or eating shitty pizza in the bed of his pickup truck.  
  
“Alright, Jack London, we do need to do this right though.” Her face presses into his chest; his heart is going a mile a minute and she can feel it against her cheek.  
  
“Agreed.” He releases her from the bear hug, taking a step back away from her, and she instantly misses the warmth, regretting that she’d said anything instead of just savoring the hug until it finally became too awkward. She can deal with awkward, it’s pretty constant in her life by now.  
  
“How about we get some lunch and then go talk to the people at Mormont Suppliers? They always have fliers up for outdoorsy seminars. I’ve got my car parked out front.”

XxXxX

Her dad thinks it's great, he’s said as much each Sunday when they talk. If he’s got any underlying issue with her plans, she doesn’t know, he makes no comment about his daughter spending three months in the wilderness, and some of it is actually wilderness, with Gendry.

They finish up the rest of spring semester getting ready for hike. After that first morning when she agreed, they drove to Mormont Suppliers and left almost two hours later - thoroughly overwhelmed and only having bought a Northlands Trail guidebook and a Clif bar flavor that Arya said she'd never seen before. When they got back to Gendry’s apartment later in the day, they started a Facebook messenger group with Arya’s Uncle Benjen, who was thankfully much more social media literate than her other older family members. They organize Skype dates with her uncle and quickly come up with an extensive checklist of everything they'll either need to procure or arrange by their start date. A few weeks later, a large FedEx box arrives at the front desk of the Arya’s apartment complex. The return address label read Benjen Stark, and she calls Gendry excitedly, telling him to get his ass to her apartment quick so they could open it together and see what he’s sent. There’s a bear can for their food, a pair of water filters, and a personal check - the notes section specified it was for use for their backcountry wilderness permits.

She picks up extra shifts at Indigo from her coworkers and Gendry finds some a few gigs on the university student forums, mostly undergrads looking for math or physics tutoring and some international students who wanted conversation partners. With each paycheck, they pool whatever money isn't going to rent or groceries and pop down to Mormont’s, picking up other items on the list, finally deciding on a camp stove and hiking poles, which somehow became a point of contention they allowed the worker at the store to solve for them.

They meet for lunch at the student union like they normally do on Thursdays, the one day of the school week when their schedules mesh perfectly. In the past, they’d just bullshit about class or make plans for the weekend. Lately, they’ve been spending their time going over their itinerary, figuring out just loosely the timing of the different towns they’ll be in and shipping resupply packs ahead of time. The union is closer to his office so he's already there to watch her as she walks up, her normal backpack all hard edges and weird corners poking into the fabric. She shrugs it off with a groan and the food court chair creaks under its weight. He laughs and laughs when he realizes that she's carrying every single one of her books in her backpack.

“I'm training, Gendry,” she shoots back at him. “Tell ya what, you might think it's funny now, but I'm not gonna carry your shit when you're too tired.”

That weekend, they both load up their backpacks and hike the trails in the hills surrounding Kings Landing.

Buying appropriate backpacks for the trip digs into both their savings accounts quite a bit, enough so that they decide on a two person backpacking tent. Initially, they’d thought about both carrying small ones of their own, but they figure that overall this is less gear and they can switch back and forth carrying it. They put the tent up in his apartment to test it, everything except the stakes of course, using a couple of his undergrad textbooks to hold it in place. _Don’t think your landlord would like that much… don’t think the downstairs neighbors would either_ , she’d mentioned, laughing when he reminded her of his dislike of the downstairs neighbor. He’s a bit worried if they both will fit, but in the end it’s fine, just like the green-vested workers at Mormonts assured them it would. They order Chinese delivery for dinner, and spend the night lounging inside the tent, eating pork fried rice and shrimp lo mein, Gendry grading papers for one of his classes and Arya going through notes for one of her upcoming final exams.

It was moments like this, ones that seem so silly, like two twenty-somethings hanging out in a tent in the living room, that define their relationship, that make perfect sense for them. The question that always underlined Arya's feelings about her relationship with Gendry was always there, usually off to the side of her mind, waiting. The wonder - what if? Why not? A big part of Arya is certain that she could confess her feelings right now, in this tent they'll be stuck in every night for most of summer, and that even if he doesn't feel the same their relationship won't change. She really, really should just say it, get it out of the way, but instead...

“Hey, you wanna pass one of those fortune cookies over here?” _What a fucking cop out_. He grabs one for himself and tosses one the two feet over to her.

 _If you wait too long for the perfect moment, the perfect moment will pass you by_. Her eyes widen as she reads it. _Oh, fuck off, fortune cookie_. She takes a large bite out of it, as if to show it who’s the boss.

He sees her expression change and she repeats it out loud to him. “See? That's perfect,” Gendry replies. “If that's not about us taking this trip, then I dunno what is.”

XxXxX

Everything they'd read suggested that the North to South route was best, and they decided to heed the advice, especially since it was the same as what Benjen had said. They made the road trip up north from King’s Landing in Arya’s Jeep, driving in shifts for the sixteen hour drive. The plan was that they'd stay overnight at her parents for one last good night’s sleep in a real bed and have time to go through their packs one last time. Bran and his girlfriend Meera would be moving to Kings Landing over the summer and would take her Jeep back down south with them.

Arya’s parents shuttled them to the trailhead the morning they planned to leave. It was only about a twenty minute drive from their place, giving her mom enough time to wake up before everyone else and have enough pancakes made to feed the enter Westerosi army.

They’ve barely had enough time to pull their backpacks out of the trunk of the her dad’s car before her mom decides they need to capture this occasion on film. “Alright you two, picture time,” she announces, ushering them both towards the trail. “Near the sign,” she adds, pulling her cellphone out of her purse.

“Mom, we gotta get --”

Before Arya could finish her protests, Gendry had his phone out and was handing it towards her mom. “Can you take one with mine too, Mrs. Stark?”

Arya sighs, but she was able to recognize defeat, especially pitted against her mother, and didn't want to start off the trip with arguing.

“Of course, Gendry.” She takes his phone, smiling when it was the same iPhone as hers so she'd know how to take a picture. “Go stand off to the side of the sign, so we can see what it says.”

Catelyn snaps a few pictures with both cameras before Ned walks up, gently patting her shoulder. “I think that's enough, it's not senior prom. Besides, they've gotta get a move on.” They both got hugs from Ned and Catelyn, even Gendry, and her parents make their way back to the car to watch the pair start off down the trail.

Ned spoke first once they were back inside the car. "I know it's too late now, but I'm still surprised you didn't have any issue with Arya doing this."

"I know our daughter very well, and she's going to do what she wants, no matter my feelings."

"And Gendry?"

"Ned, sweetie, I know you can be a little bit dense at times, but you only need to listen when she talks about Gendry.” Reaching across the center console, she takes his hand in hers. “She's gonna marry that boy one day."


	2. Hey Jealousy

After a couple of days on the trail, they fall into the same daily patterns, easily figuring out what their new normal looks like. The initial ‘first times’ for them - first time setting up camp for the night, first time “cooking” dinner, first time getting ready to go in the morning - were all met with grumbles and eye rolls, both making sarcastic comments and bumping into each more often than what should’ve been possible.     
  
Eventually, both figure out how to maneuver around the other, and after a couple days they are no longer stepping all over each other’s feet when making food or brushing their teeth. They take turns alternating between who makes breakfast and who breaks down camp, and the same for in the evening with dinner and camp set up. 

  
When she was younger, Arya’s family did day hikes through some of where they are now, trails accessed by seasonal roads so bumpy she thought their minivan would never ride the same again. They'd always spent long weekends in the summer fitting in camping trips in between youth soccer leagues and summer camps, but it was never like this. The whole gang of them would sleep in a tent that was bigger than Arya’s dorm room freshman year, eat some smores, try to find ways to amuse themselves. Days usually consisted of bike rides, hikes, and daring each other to jump in cold rivers, and ended with trying to figure out where Rickon had wandered off to before their mother realized he was gone.  _ None of which _ , Arya thinks, remembering her mother cooking eggs in a cast iron skillet on a propane-fueled Coleman stove,  _ prepared me for what this would be like _ .

It takes about two and a half days for the countryside and foothills to give way to the real elevation, and Gendry grudgingly admits to Arya that her idea to stuff her backpack on her walks around campus was a good one. 

The sun seemed to rise early in the summer in this part of Westeros, and they opt to wake with it instead of setting an alarm or trying to sleep in. While they’re both used to the noises in Kings Landing, traffic and honking horns and sirens in the distance, it’s nothing compared to the noises of the forest around them. Even the nights in Winterfell, much smaller than Kings Landing, still had the same traffic noises. Arya had assumed it’d be eerily quiet at night, and she couldn’t have been more wrong. Each night is filled with the forest come to night, and it takes her a while to realize that not every noise she hears in the dark is some animal coming to eat them.   
  
Their third morning in, Arya stirs, hearing some noises their tent and assuming its only squirrels, until a couple minutes later her curiosity gets the best of her. She rolls on her side and is surprised to see Gendry isn’t next to her. She finds him outside the tent in the low light of the approaching sunrise, hands in his pockets, putzing around like he’s not sure what to do with himself at this hour of the morning. 

“I don’t wanna miss a thing,” Gendry says in explanation as he kicks at a pine cone, and she makes some comment about how he was never up that early before. Though she agrees with what he’s saying, she can’t let him get away with yet another musical reference, simply saying “Aerosmith, Armageddon,” in return.

They wake up on the morning of the fifth day in, and while they eat breakfast, Arya goes over the map and their plans for the day. The last couple days were just regular hikes, so she can’t help but get a little excited about what’s coming up for today and that evening. She tries not to smile too hard and give it away, but she has a horrible poker face sometimes, and Gendry probably assumes that she’s just really happy about the oatmeal and dried cranberries they’ve got for breakfast. 

“We’ll be going through a town today,” she announces afterwards, busying herself with folding the tent back up as he takes down the clothesline they’d hung up to dry out some of their clothes. “It’ll be at the end of today’s leg and the guidebook shows that there’s a state park campground there.” She pauses a moment, carefully stuffing the tent back into its pouch. “You know what that means, right?”

“Please tell me it means a shower.” 

“You bet your ass it means showers. And if the town is decent sized it means a freshly prepared meal too.” 

“Hey! I thought you said the dinner I made last night was pretty good.”

“Gendry, first of all - you didn’t  _ make  _ dinner last night. You put hot water in a bag and stirred.” With the tent in its sack, she almost tosses it over to Gendry until she remembers he carried it yesterday, and clips it on to the top of her pack instead. “And second, even if it somehow tasted amazing, I’m not eating freeze dried, guaranteed fresh for twenty years food when I have the chance at a freshly grilled burger and fries.” She walks over to where he’s taking the clothes down and grabs her shirt, pants, and underwear from him, folding them neatly and placing them in her backpack around the tent, before hauling it up on to her shoulders. “Let’s get a move on, I can hear those fries calling my name.”  

The leg they’ll cover that day is just shy of fifteen miles, and the first eight goes by smoothly. With half the mileage down, they stop to eat lunch for about forty five minutes, laying out a spread of the various types of jerky that Gendry has packed and cracking open a bag of assorted dehydrated fruit. Their path followed a small creek almost all morning as they continued to descend, and the lunch spot they found looks like a makeshift picnic area cobbled together by past hikers. They filter more water from the stream and make their way the last of the seven miles into the town. The trail dumps the pair almost front and center into this little town, Lawson Village, the sign says, population 853. 

“Oh, wow, Arya,” Gendry says when they walk past the sign, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just think, if you’d said no to this trip, you be missing out on Lawson Village, the blueberry capital of Northeast Westeros.”

Their first stop is at a small laundromat and, despite it only being five days into the trip, they take whatever chance they can get to clean their clothes, buying a single use detergent pack from a vending machine. They shove all their dirty clothes into the same machine and when they see the timer on the washer show forty-five minutes to go, they head out to explore the town, both agreeing that there’s low risk of laundry theft in a town like this.

It’s a sleepy little town, especially mid-afternoon on a Thursday, the streets lined with all the shops needed for its residents daily needs: post office, mom & pop grocery and hardware store, and more antique stores than you’d think a town with less than a thousand residents would require. When they round a corner, Gendry stops in his tracks, so abruptly that had Arya not been a couple paces behind him, she’d have crashed straight into his back.

“I think I found our next stop.” 

“That so?” she asks as she walks up to his side.

He points to a building a few doors down on the same side of the sidewalk. “Right there. Lawson Coffee Cafe.” She spots what he must've seen then, a sandwich chalkboard on the sidewalk. There’s a mug with latte art drawn at the bottom, and one arrow pointing at the shop that reads ‘coffee and snacks,’ another pointing in the opposite direction says ‘the real world.’

“You know there’s gonna be times when the distance between towns is more than five days. You’ll have to settle for instant coffee.” He looks down at her and she reaches up to pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve packed  _ plenty _ of the instant crap.”

“I know. That’s why we need to enjoy this. Come on, looks like there’s open porch spots. We can sit outside.”

“Alright, alright.” She laughs, holding her hands up in defeat. “I'm just giving you shit, Gen. Believe me, you don't have to twist my arm to get me to agree to a coffee.”

Arya is surprised at how modern the cafe is, expecting more of a rustic hunting lodge feel for the area that they’re in, but instead she’s met with a much more modern look. There’s still some antler decorations on the wall, but they’re more of the Pottery Barn style as opposed to what someone might strap on the front of rusted out pickup. The tables and the counter are matching in the same planks of reclaimed wood, with metal chairs at some tables, while others along the wall are flanked by a long cushioned booth. Chalkboards behind the counter spell out everything they’ve got and there’s an espresso machine so shiny it could double as a mirror. They both avoid their reflections for fear of what they look like after five days on the trail. Gendry heads off to use the bathroom,  _ a real one _ , he notes excitedly, leaving Arya to order for the both of them. He trusts her enough by now to know what he wants, but he’s surprised, and not happily surprised, to be treated a familiar scene when he comes back out. 

Still all the way across the room from Arya, he can’t make out anything she’s saying, but he doesn’t need to, he’s been to enough bars, house parties, and concerts to immediately recognize flirty Arya. It’s not just her and the barista anymore, who has busied himself preparing drinks, but there’s another man standing next to her. He’s mirroring how she’s standing, leaning up against the end of the counter, his body angled towards her  _ just so _ , though he’s keeping his distance. Maybe it’s instinct, but Gendry just knows this guy, with his buffalo check flannel and dark jeans, and horrible bright red hair and silly white stripe, he knows he’d be all over Arya if this was a club and not mid-afternoon at a coffee shop. As he walks toward them, Mr. Fire Engine Hair must have said something funny, because all of a sudden Arya’s doubling over in laughter, the same unreserved, boisterous way she always laughs - like she’s somehow got to let everyone in the vicinity know that something funny has happened. 

“Stop, stop it,” she breathes out, still halfway laughing. “I swear to god if I get hiccups…” Her voice trails off and he watches as she reaches out, placing her on this guy’s bicep. Gendry glances up towards the ceiling, trying to look at them and let himself get too agitated, and notices that they’re standing underneath a sign that says ‘pick up.’  _ Clearly someone’s taking that sign in a different goddamn way _ , Gendry thinks as he gets closer. By the way Arya looks at him, he’s obviously not done the best job at wiping the scowl off his face, so he plasters on a smile as he joins them, thinking instead of the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans and vanilla that surround them. 

“Waiting on drinks?” 

Arya nods, then turns towards Mr. Fire Engine Hair “This is Gendry, who I told you about. Best friend and amazing traveling companion, so far,” she adds, winking at Gendry as she turns to face him. “Gendry, this is…”

“Jaqen,” he answers when it's clear she can't remember.

“That’s right, Jaqen,” Arya repeats back. The barista steps over from the front of the espresso machine and announces the drink he sets down, smiling at Arya in a way that only makes Gendry feel slightly better about this guy’s intentions.  _ Slightly _ . “I’ll wait for my drink, why don't you go get us a table?” She grabs the mug from the counter and passes it to him. “One of the ones on the porch you pointed out.”

“Sure, no problem,” he agrees, and goes outside to grab a table to wait for her. A few minutes later, he hears the screen door creak, then clack shut, and when he looks up from the table she’s walking towards him. 

“What was that all about?” He realizes his tone was a bit more harsh that he’d expected it to be, and readies himself for her to get angry with him, but she doesn’t get riled up.  _ Thank the gods, last thing I need is to spend the next couple of days with a pissed off Arya _ .

“Oh, you know, just using my charming ways to get us some free pastries.” He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice the awkward way she’s been standing since she joined him, but she pulls her left hand out from behind her back, and sets down a plate on the table in front of him. “Told them I was curious to see if this place lived up to the blueberry capital hype and before I knew it, the barista dude is handing me a scone and that giant muffin.”

He tells her can’t argue with that, since she got something for him as well. He still hates to see her like that, unknowingly reminding him of what he doesn’t have. Though he’s more than well aware he has no claim to her, and he’s loath to even call it that, it still smarts to see her acting like that towards other men, even if she brings pastries afterwards.

They finish their coffee and drinks, and he doesn’t push any more about whatever was going with the two guys inside the cafe. Afterwards, they switch over their laundry into a dryer, then check into the state park campground, happy that there’s an extra unreserved site. The host says they always leave a handful for walk-ins since they’re close to the trail, and he assures them that any other state park they get to along the trail would do the same. Gendry gets the tent popped up quickly, already done by the time that Arya is back from the bathrooms, happily proclaiming that they’ll shower like kings that night. 

Not long after they check in, they retrieve their clean clothes and start getting themselves cleaned up. Truthfully, they’re just your run of the mill campground showers, but thank the gods, they’re clean, the water is hot, and the water pressure is heavenly. Arya allows herself more time than usual to just zone out under the spray… and that’s when she hears it. There’s someone singing to himself in the shower, and realizing then that the walls of the men’s and women’s shower houses at the campground butt up against each other, that it has to be Gendry. 

She can only hear her shower and what she is assuming is his, and shouts out, “Gendry! Gin Blossoms, Hey Jealousy.” The singing stops abruptly and she hopes to god it’s him and not some random strange man who happens to also like mid-90s alternative.

She lets out a sigh of relief when he yells back, asking if she could hear him.  _ Everyone in town can hear you _ , she wants to reply, but instead she just say she can. Talking loudly over the shower spray and wall that ends just short of the ceiling, she tells him the two guys from the cafe told her about this pub that they just had to try, saying it's the only worthwhile place in town.

Arya gets her wish for burgers and fries at a pub in town. He’ll give them credit too, because they were right. The burgers they both ordered were amazing - and not just amazing because they aren’t rehydrated. Almost like clockwork, once they’ve finished eating, the two guys from earlier come into the pub. Arya spots them from her seat when they walk in, quickly yelling and waving them over to join her and Gendry.

“If you’re done eating, can I interest you in a game of pool?” Will asks. “I’m pretty shit myself, but Jaqen here thinks he’s a real pro at it.”

She looks over at Gendry, raising an eyebrow in question. “No, but you go ahead, Arry.” He gestures towards the television behind the bar. “I think I’ll sit and watch the game for a while.”

XxXxX

About forty-five minutes pass before she comes back to where Gendry is still sitting at the bar. Part of him is glad he wasn’t over there, it’s bad enough hearing her laughter ringing across the room, and he knows she’s heckling the both of them whenever they make a bad shot. He’s not thrilled by any means, but the pretzel bites he ordered are pretty decent and the Highgarden-Casterly soccer game seems evenly matched so it isn’t too boring to watch.

She walks up to the counter, empty pint glass in hand, and gets his attention when she leans on the back of his barstool and musses up his hair. “You’re sure friendly with those two tonight, aren't you?” 

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Gendry.” The bartender walks up then and she orders another drink for herself. 

“Pfft.” He practically blows a raspberry at her as he rolls his eyes. “Jealous? Not me.” 

“Oh, that so?” 

“Just a bit surprised that you’re bored of me so soon into the trip. Not even a week in and you’re already abandoning me for a couple of Westeros blueberry capital guys.” He’s trying to sound sarcastic, joking, to throw her off from the scent that he’s actually quite jealous right now.

“Abandoning? Hardly. You’d get along with them, if you came over and socialized. Will, the guy from the coffee shop, his family owns that outdoors store two doors down from the laundromat. We saw it earlier, the one with the kayaks out front. He was telling me about some of the places to look forward to in our next couple days on the trail.” Arya pauses when the bartender comes back with her drink. “Hey, listen, I know Jaqen is flirting super hard with me and I feel kinda bad, because it’s not gonna get him anywhere.”

“It’s not?”

A shocked look crosses her face before she answers.

“What? No!” she yells, then realizes the pub is not nearly loud and crowded enough for her to do that. She squeezes her way past Gendry’s knees and quickly hops up on the bar stool next to him, feet dangling high off the ground. “Have you  _ seen _ his hair? It’s redder than a goddamn fire truck and I have absolutely no interest if figuring out if the curtains match the drapes.” She’s leaning over into him now, and explodes in a fit of giggles, tears coming to her eyes. “So no, Gendry. I’m not interested in him. The only person I’m sleeping next to tonight is you.” When she’s done giggling again, she pushes herself off the barstool and looks back up at him. “Now, what d’ya say we go challenge those two to some darts?”

“You mean you wanna show them how good the Bear and the Maiden Fair’s four-time darts champions are?”

Arya grabs his hand and tugs him off the barstool. “You’re goddamn right I do,” she replies, a playful tone to her voice. “They’ll never see it coming.”

XxXxX

The next morning, after breaking down camp and checking out with the campground host, they grab coffees and pastries from the same cafe, and Gendry keeps it to himself how happy he is that the person behind the counter is sixty-some year old woman who looks oddly like Jane Goodall, and not Arya’s barista friend from the day before. Admittedly, once they were chatting and playing darts, he found that Will was incredibly easy to get along with, and he enjoyed his stories about his own hikes and what it was like growing up there. Jaqen still managed to get under his skin, but had backed off considerably once Gendry was also nearby.  _ Probably doesn’t help that we won all seven games and won fifty bucks off him, either. _

The second they’re out on the trail again, he’s humming something, muttering lyrics under his breath.

“Gendry?”

He stops his self-made concert when he hears her. “Hmm?”

“You’re  _ not _ singing John Denver, are you?”

“It’s Rocky Mountain High!” he practically shouts. “I think it’s pretty appropriate.”

“We are nowhere near the Rockies, Gendry.”

“It’s not my fault no one has made a song about the Northlands Trail.” He starts humming again, then begins singing, loudly this time, when he arrives at the chorus. 

“I hate you.”

“You can’t hate me, I’m your best friend.”

She smiles at that, a big silly grin blooming across her face. It makes her glad that Gendry’s leading the way that morning, she knows he’d tease her about it if he saw. “All I know is that when we get to the next town, I better not see a news report about how your loud noises have scared all the animals out of the forest.”

A few minutes later, he starts on Country Roads Take Me Home, and Arya can’t help but join in.


	3. Another Sunny Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New trail friends and birthday surprises - the end of the first month on the trail.

If Arya and Gendry had been playing hiking stereotype bingo, they both decide that they’ve already stamped the entire card full, and then some. 

The trail runner guy with no shirt, about six percent body fat, handheld water bottles, and shorts so incredibly small that once he’s long zoomed passed them, Gendry wonders aloud if he stole them from a 1970s basketball team. He runs past them again, maybe two hours later, looking absolutely no worse for the wear. 

The trio of mountaineering guys - ropes, carabiners, and a helmet swinging away from the various loops on the outside of all their packs - despite that there’s no place nearby you could do anything more than some easy bouldering. 

The family hiking together, clearly the dad’s idea, and he’s loaded up with more gear than the sherpas in Everest documentaries. With a paper map and a compass, he’s trying his best to teach his son some orienteering skills, though it’s clearly going nowhere since the boy looks to be of an age when chapter books are still bit out of reach. They cross paths with Arya and Gendry, chatting for awhile, and the mother takes out a Tupperware from her pack, popping it open to offer everyone walnut brownies. 

They were  _ normal  _ brownies that time, not like the ones they were gifted by the Willie Nelson lookalike a few days ago, who overnighted with them at same spot they did. She knew that her and Gendry didn’t exactly smell the freshest, but this guy practically had a dust cloud trailing behind him, like Pig-Pen in the Charlie Brown comics. Decked out in off-white linen pants, a tie-dyed t-shirt, hiking sandals, he had a ukulele strapped to his backpack. Though Arya would never admit it, it was actually a sort of fun way to spend an evening, with fake Willy Nelson sitting next to her, strumming away, and singing Sublime songs with Gendry. She maybe even joined in and sang along for What I Got,  _ maybe _ . 

The current couple sharing their camp area tonight embodies a stereotype that both of them feel is their favorite - the substitute trail parents. They don’t perfectly match, but their outfits look like they coordinated their outings to LL Bean together, and the woman explains that they’re only out on the trail for the long weekend, which is why they’re carrying so many non-essentials.  _ Nothin’ worse than an empty pack _ , the lady says, a tell-tale giveaway for Arya that neither of them have ever spent more than a few days with a full pack. Their tent is massive, with almost twice the footprint of their teensy backpacking tent - they’ve even got a mattress that inflates.  _ Tent’s bigger than that studio you rented junior year _ , Gendry whispers as they work to set up with own tent. At first, Arya and him share a couple of side-eyed knowing glances with each other, judging the scene in front of them, but when Brad and Elaine open up their packs and are happy to share their veritable treasure trove of food… well, their opinions flip-flopped pretty quick.

“So, how long’ve you two been together?” Elaine asks, posing the question to both Arya and Gendry. It’s a few hours later in the evening, the sun is down now and Arya had helped Brad make a fire right after dinner. They’d eaten their own packs of food, but accepted all the snacks that their new friends offered to them. 

“Oh, not long. Almost a month, I think,” Gendry replies, answering for the both of them, since Arya had just shoveled another handful of homemade granola into her mouth. Arya turns her head slowly to look at him and stares.  _ Seriously? They’re trying to asking if we’re a couple _ . She’d say something if she could, probably something sarcastic, but she was a tad overzealous with her last handful of granola and her mouth is way too full to talk.  _ Sometimes I have to wonder if you say things like that on purpose _ .

Elaine gives a chuckle at Gendry’s answer, and Brad reaches over to cover her hand with his, before he tries to clear up what his wife was really asking. “Sorry, not how long you’ve been on the trail. How long have you been together? Dating, or whatever you kids call it now,” he adds so that it’s perfectly clear.  _ As if that side-turned head and wink didn’t give it away _ , Arya thinks.

“Hah, shit, sorry. We’re not dating,” he answers. “Just friends.” Arya tries to school her facial expression and not wince at his assessment of their relationship. Friends,  _ just  _ friends. There’s something about that  _ just  _ which hurts worse that if he’d only said they were friends. It stings, and she brings a hand to her mouth, chewing at the dry skin around her fingernails to occupy herself. 

“You’ve gotta be pretty good friends if you’re out here, just the two of ya.” From across the fire pit, Arya can see Elaine smiling at her. 

She turns to her left and looks up at Gendry, expectant, waiting to see his reaction. He reaches over, grabbing her hand away from her mouth and holding it in his. “Best friends, right, Arry?” When he turns his head to the right to look at her, she’s already there, staring right back at him. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be stuck with for three months.”

The way he looks at her, his face warm and outlined by the light cast off from the campfire, so close to the way she wants him to look at her - it’s unsettling, to say the least. He’s got that smile on his face, the one he freely gives to her, whenever she needs it and even when she doesn’t, and it’s getting hard to concentrate when she thinks about how her hand always feel so very small when it’s in his. They take each other’s hands often, but there’s usually a reason - like when he helps her up steep parts of the trail, or they’re moving through a crowded concert venue towards the stage. Shit, she’ll even cop to grabbing his hand during scary parts of movies, or when she dragged him to that haunted house last year, which turned out to be scarier for her than it was for him. Right now, it feels like he’s holding on just because, and the very thought of that has her out of sorts. 

“Say, do you kids want more s’mores?” Elaine’s voice cuts through the silence from the other side of the fire pit. “I found another pack of Hershey’s mixed in with some of the breakfast stuff.”

Arya jumps at the chance - literally - bouncing up from the picnic bench, her hand already around marshmallow toasting stick she’d used earlier. “What? Of course we do, that’s an easy question.” 

_ Thank Christ for Elaine, _ she thinks, _ diffuser of potentially awkward situations. _

XxXxX

Gendry is used to waking up before Arya, so wakes up one morning, he’s surprised when he stretches his arms out and realizes Arya must already be awake and out of the tent. For a moment he wonders if he’s slept in by accident, but when he leaves the tent, the sun is just now rising, shining in through the pine trees that surround their camp, making patterns on the ground. It’s supposed to be hot later on today, but the morning air is still crisp, and he tugs a pullover sweater on as he makes his way towards Arya. She’s crouched on the ground facing him, hair a mess like it is every single morning. The camp stove going and the Ziplocs of rolled oats, brown sugar, and dried cranberries are on the ground next to it, along with two little Starbucks packs of instant coffee and their metal coffee mugs.

He brushes some leaves off a rock and sits down nearby. “What’s the story, morning glory?”

“Really, Gen?” She rips open the little pack of powdered coffee and empties it into a mug, pouring hot water in after. “I know it’s first thing in the morning, but if we’re gonna play the song guessing game, you’ve gotta do better than giving me the lyric with the song title in it.” She takes a look at the steeping coffee, then passes the mug to him. “Oh, and that was Oasis, of course.”

“I’ll try better next time. What’s on the plan today?” He blows on the coffee and takes a sip. She poured a little too much water in this time, but there’s no way he’s complaining. 

“I’ve got today planned out, don’t you worry,” she says, though they’ve got enough history that she knows he doesn’t quite trust her when she says not to worry. “Bit of a… rest day. You’ll like it, I promise.”

About an hour into their hike on the normal pathway, there’s another forking off, and she grabs his attention and has her follow that way instead. He sneaks a peek at the trail sign: Glass Lake, 2.5 miles. Another hour on the new trail and suddenly the woods open up. The lake isn’t huge, and the entirety of it is in view from where the path ends. There’s no sandy shore whatsoever, the rocky path continues and gradually becomes large smooth boulders that spread out and meet the water. The mountains rise up sharply on the surrounding sides, and its immediately obvious where the lake’s namesake came from. The entirety of the surroundings are reflected upside down perfectly in the water, and if it wasn’t for the images flipping over, it’d be difficult to determine where the lake ends and the mountains begin again.  

“This place is unreal, Arya.” They spend a few moments just staring when they emerge from the woods. “How’d you find out about this place?”

“Remember the other week when we stayed at the state park? You were in the shower, taking your damn time, by the way, and I got roped into a chat with the campground host and his wife. They said hardly anyone ever comes here so it’d be great for a day trip if we had room for it in the schedule.” 

She informs him then that they’ve got rest of the day to do absolutely whatever they want, so they spend the afternoon exploring around the lake, and then alternating between swimming and jumping out to nap on the rocks. When it’s getting closer to dinner time, she makes an excuse to get out and changed sooner, heading back to the small grassy clearing near the rocks where they’ll make camp for the night. They both commented earlier that they’re lucky it’s there - the rocks might be smooth but they’re still rocks. She dries off, lays the towel out to dry, and redresses in the same clothes she wore earlier. They’re warm from laying out in the hot sun. “You’re in for a treat, Gen. Clothes and towels are warm from the rocks, it’s like they’re fresh outta the dryer.” 

*****

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she tells him when they’re almost done eating. Dinner was still dehydrated, but Arya pulled out the Mexican rice pouch and the fajita chicken pouch, her attempt at a theme.  _ It’s not exactly like getting takeout from Mexican Village _ , she tells him, trying not too hard to think about their favorite place back home,  _ but maybe it’ll do the trick? _

“The day of rest wasn’t surprise enough?”

“You don’t want it?” She shakes around the bottom of her pouch of food, getting out the final bite of food.

“I didn’t say  _ that _ .”

“Okay, then close your eyes.” she instructs him. He makes a noise of protest, but before he can say anything, she reaches over and pulls his beanie down over his eyes. “Just play along. Please.”

The  _ please  _ gets him, each and every time. He knows she must really want something when she resorts to using her manners. “Fine, I’ll play along,” he replies, and she takes the now empty food pouch from him, setting it with the rest of the trash. He hears her get up, then hears her going through one of the backpacks. It feels like forever, mostly because he’s never quite sure with her what the surprise will be. Next comes the noise of the zippers on her pack and what he thinks sounds like plastic packaging. There’s a few footsteps getting closer to him, and then a mechanical clicking noise which he can’t figure out, piquing his interest quite a bit. By how easily he can hear her breathing, he’s got a good feeling she’s sitting right in front of him.

Despite almost knowing she’s right there, he still flinches when she finally speaks. “Alright,  _ now  _ you can open them.” 

Even with everything he could’ve imagined she’d surprise him with, this was never on his radar. When he pushes the beanie up from his eyes, Gendry is stunned.

She’s sitting right in front of him, like he’d expected, and with both hands she’s holding out one of their metal plates to him. There’s seven,  _ no - make that eight _ , he counts, eight of those Little Debbie chocolate cupcakes with the white frosted swirl on top. The one in the very middle of the plate has lit candle sticking out of it, a little bit slanted, and for the first time in the day he realizes that it’s his birthday. 

“Happy birthday, Gendry.”

They’re both quiet enough that all he’s able to hear is his own breathing and the crickets that have started to come out now that it’s dusk, and she’s looking at him expectantly, like she’s not going to make a move until he says something.

“Arya, you didn’t have —”

“That’s not the point, you know that.” She cuts him off quickly. “I couldn’t get a regular cake in here, or any ice cream, but I just thought that…” Her voice wanes as she realizes she’s starting to ramble. 

“I love it, Arya. Thank you.” 

Her smile erupts, eyes lighting up as she’s comforted by the fact that all her planning isn’t for naught. “Go ahead, make a wish.”

He’s not sure if there’s anything else better than the day he’s already had, so he wishes for more perfect days like this, with her. He takes the candle out and grabs the middle cupcake, tapping it against the one she’s picked before he takes a bite. “I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid,” he says, mouth stuffed mostly full of cupcake. After a moment of chewing, a thought dawns on him - she’s had an eight-pack of cupcakes in her pack since at least the last town, which was also their last resupply point. He finishes the cupcake and then poses the question nagging at him; he just has to know if she’s been planning this as long as it seems. 

“I had noticed you being extra careful going through your pack since we left the last town... was kinda wondering what sorts of secrets you had in there. Did you…,” he pauses, because a part of him still thinks it’s a ridiculous idea. “Did you mail these to the last town specifically for my birthday?”

Arya is silent for a moment, looking down at the half-eaten cupcake in her left hand. When she meets his eyes, it’s plain to see that she’s embarrassed and that’s not at all what he wants. She nods, just barely, but doesn’t say a thing. 

He reaches over and takes the plate from her hands, sets it on the ground on the other side of him, and brings a hand up to circle her bicep. He pulls her into him, and once it’s clear she’s not pulling away, his arms go around her back, holding her close. “This is the most memorable birthday I’ve ever had,” he tells her, his face pressed into her neck. “I’d actually totally forgotten it too, until I opened my eyes and saw you with the cupcakes.”

She laughs when she hears him say that, and he hears her say something like  _ typical  _ under her breath. He pulls away a few seconds later, and presses a kiss to her temple, feeling her jolt still when he does.  _ Too much? _ he wonders, thinking maybe he shouldn't have done that. It's not nearly close enough to what he wants to do, which is to cover her with kisses until there's no part of her left untouched, to thank her for today, and for coming on this trip, and for everything else he could possibly think of. 

“Come on,” Arya begins. She turns to move beside him, facing the lake, and he’s forced to let go of her. “I think the perfect end to a day of rest is to finish the rest of these and watch the sunset.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” The sun only has a little ways left to go before it dips behind the mountains that frame the opposite side of the lake, but he’s learned that Arya is always so in awe of everything in nature. She wants to explore every waterfall, investigate every oddly shaped rock and tree covered in moss, and watch all the sunrises and sunsets she can. He finds it captivating, endearing almost, and often he’s satisfied watching her reaction instead of watching what she’s reacting to. 

Leaning over, he picks up the plate of cupcakes, taking another for himself and offering the plate towards her.

“Sorry there was only one candle.” She grabs another one from the plate and begins to pick off the frosting swirl. “You're getting kinda old, and I didn't wanna risk a forest fire just so you'd have an accurate number of candles.”

“Twenty five is  _ not  _ old, Arya.”

“Says the person who forgot their own birthday - that's memory loss.”

“Well, shit. Good thing I've got you to remind me, eh?” He shrugs and she nods her agreement. “What would I do without you, Arya?” He forces himself to say that last hypothetical question as sarcastically as he possibly can, so there’s no way she’ll figure out he’s actually got  _ no goddamn clue _ what he’d do without her.  _ Fuck _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a line from Morning Glory, this chapter's Gendry song reference. The lake they come to is based on Sky Pond, an amazingly glorious high mountain lake in Rocky Mountain National Park, it's well worth the eleven miles round trip.


	4. We'll Spend Some Time Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Practical" snuggles, sunrises, man-buns.

By the time the first month comes and goes, there’s very few things that they are able to keep personal any longer. Unless it’s sometime in the middle of the night or early in the morning before the other person wakes up, they know exactly when the other person goes to the bathroom, and for exactly how long. They both handle the other’s underwear on in-town laundry days or when they hang things up to air dry at camp. Arya knows where Gendry is at all times and what he’s doing, and the opposite is true as well. 

The little amount of privacy they have sharing a tent isn’t too bad. They’d seen each other close to naked before, usually because once they were both in Kings Landing, Arya had a tendency to show up at Gendry’s apartment unannounced, and at oddly early hours of the morning. He’s lost count of the number of times he’d stumbled out of bed in just his underwear, only to find her sitting at his kitchen table, running clothes on and already sweaty, halfway through her second bowl of cereal.

The day comes when Arya decides she’s had more than enough. It’s been too many weeks of trying to change privately in a sleeping bag while he’s in the tent too. Shit, even trying to change inside the tent when she’s in there by herself is sort of a cluster. A small part of her mind reminds her of her feelings for him, but in the end she’s fed up, and just wants to change her clothes without feeling like a self-conscious twelve year old changing in the middle school locker room for the first time, or like she’s stuck inside a cocoon. 

So one day, once they’ve arrived at where they agree to make camp, Arya decides that she’s through. He’s maybe ten feet away, crouched down and fiddling with camp stove, while she works on stringing up the clothesline between two trees. Her next plan would normally be to go into the tent, change clothes, then hang up what she’d removed. They’re in the middle of their current conversation about god knows what when she pulls her t-shirt over her head. She flips it right-side out again and clips it to the clothesline. It’s not until her sports bra comes off right after it that she notices he’s watching. His face is beet red with embarrassment, and she almost laughs at him because, despite the face he’s making, he doesn’t look away. 

“Chill out, Gendry,” she says. Not thinking, she shrugs her shoulders and sees him quickly look away, then realizes her shrugging had just brought more attention to her chest. “I mean, you  _ have  _ seen tits before, haven’t you?”

His head tilts right and he rolls his eyes. “Christ, Arry, of course I have.”

“Good. Because I’m fucking tired of changing in the tent. I dunno how you manage it, but it makes me feel like an escape artist and I’m like a foot shorter than you.” Bending over, she picks up her flannel shirt off the top of her pack and pulls it over her shoulders. She buttons it up quickly, forgoing a new bra since it’ll only get dirtier sooner if she puts it on.

“Doesn’t matter to me where you change at. Just maybe stick to the tent when there’s other campers,” he warns, then looks back to the pouches of food in front of him. “What’ll it be this evening?” 

With that, it seems like everything is back to normal. He asks if she wants the chicken and rice pouch, but lets her know he’s heard that the chef’s specialty is beef with noodles. They eat dinner, show each other some of the pictures they took that day, and she has to point out  _ yet again _ which constellation is Aquila, though she’s sure he’s just messing with her by now.

It’s all back to normal, until an hour later when he’s laying six inches away from her, trying his best to fall asleep, but all he’s able to think about are her breasts. Sure, he’s imagined them more often than he’ll admit, but now he  _ knows _ . It’s so much easier now to imagine how they’d feel, or their weight in his hand, even how soft her skin is somehow seem more vivid. Her nipples were hard earlier and he imagines it’s her body’s reaction to his eyes on her, not just a coincidence. He thinks about how pale she is without her shirt, how easy it’d be suck bruises into her skin. 

Sleep does  _ not  _ come easy that night.

XxXxX

The ascent up to Conqueror’s Point is the hardest hike by far that they’ll do on the whole trip. At times, the route involves what seems to be actual climbing, though it's nothing more than a little bit of route finding and some scrambling that doesn’t even scratch the surface of a Class 3 rating. Still, it’s much more than either of them have ever done.

“It’ll be worth it, ya know?” Gendry says during one of the many breaks they take that day. “We’ve been on this slow ascent now for six miles and I think my legs are gonna fall off, but we’ll only have a half mile to go in the morning and that sunrise will be worth it.” 

They’re not able go the full way up, since there’s no camping allowed at the top, despite the fact that all the pictures they saw online showed that it’s not truly above the treeline. Nothing is in this area of Westeros, but there’s still no cover up there. The amount of wind at the top has stunted the growth of anything taller than small shrubs, and if the guidebook is correct, a lot of those would be wild blueberries. She wishes they could camp at the top, maybe take one of those Instagram-worthy pictures of the sunset from the inside of their tent, but Gendry is the best, safest little Boy Scout of a camper, and she knows it’s not worth even asking.  _ I’ll take pine trees and shade ahead of afternoon storms and lightning strikes any day of the week _ , she imagines him saying. 

She can tell he’s tired -- he’s not he normal chatty Cathy slash acapella star that he is during most of their hikes. Arya tries to think back on the day and can’t recall a single song he’s sang or hummed along the way. It doesn’t help that the higher they’ve climbed, the colder the winds kept getting, and they’ve still got two hours before sunset. The sky has been clear all day and it reminds her of how her father always told her that the cloudless nights were usually the coldest. 

*****

They’ve been laying in the tent for almost a half hour now, Gendry supposes. He could pull his arm out of the sleeping bag and check his watch, but he’s cold, there’s no getting around it. Despite all their best efforts in planning out the trip, they didn’t plan to have any nights where the temps dropped quite this low. Neither of them bought sleeping bags rated for these temperatures, or bothered to pack any long underwear.  _ It wouldn’t have made sense, we’d be roasting every other night if we’d done that, or just carrying extra stuff _ . Both of them had changed as quickly as possible, except this time it was to add more layers. He feels stuffed inside of his sleeping back with so much clothes on - wool knee socks under his hiking pants, a long sleeve shirt under his hoodie, and his beanie still on.  

“Why don’t we zip the sleeping bags together and you can just move closer to me?” he suggests, more than aware of the connotations of his suggestion. He couldn’t care less at the moment though, all he wants is to get warm and fall asleep.

“I’ll be fine.” He hears her rustling around in her bag, trying to pull it closer, as if that would help. 

Not even five minutes pass, but he knows that if he is this cold, she has to be freezing with how small she is, upbringing in the North or not. “Will you just get in the damn sleeping bag with me already?” He unzips it and holds it up. “I can hear your teeth chattering. Come on, before I change my mind.”

He hears her breathe out a loud sigh, but she relents, dragging her small pillow over so that it butts up against his. She unzips her sleeping bag and brings it with her as she scoots closer, then rolls over on her side, facing away from him. “Thought you’d be used to the cold,” he teases, unable to help himself, “Being from Winterfell and all.” 

Gendry has a feeling she’s going to have some reply soon, and he knows it’ll just be pure sass, so he preemptively silences her - he rolls her way on his side and snakes his hand over her abdomen, pulling her flush against him. She gasps and he allows himself to smirk, only since it’s pitch black and she can’t see his face.  _ It always feels like a little victory to surprise her _ . There’s a split second where he wonders if she’ll pull away, say something like  _ geez, Gendry, it’s not  _ that  _ cold out _ , but it never happens. She settles against him and he can hear her chattering teeth begin to calm, but all he wants to do is roll her over towards him so he can cover her mouth with his, silencing whatever little gasps she makes. He imagines how small she'd feel in arms, but not fragile,  _ no, not that _ . She'd probably kiss back with the same tenacity that she does everything with, card her hands into his hair when he parts her lips with his tongue and --

_ Oh, fuck _ , he thinks.  _ Stop thinking like that, now is not the time _ . He shifts a little, angling his hips downward into the sleeping bag.  _ The first time she's in your arms for a completely innocent reason isn’t the time to introduce her to your boner, dumbass _ . Her teeth aren’t chattering at all anymore and her breathing is even; he figures she’s already fallen asleep and he should work on that too.  _ That pre-dawn alarm clock is gonna come sooner that I’d like _ .

*****

“This makes it worth it, Gen.  _ This _ .”

There’s no way he can deny that - the sunrise off Conqueror’s Point is supposed to be legendary, the high vista allowing for a view of the hundreds of miles of wilderness that stretches out thousands of feet below. At least, that’s what TripAdvisor and all the guidebooks told them. It’s by no means the highest peak nearby, but the views are arguably better and much easier to get to. Previous visitors had piled rocks facing towards the east, the prime location to watch the sunrise. She sits next to him on the rocks, waiting for the first rays of light to shine up over the horizon. 

When they do, Arya is on her feet in an instant - fists clenched, rising up to greet the new day, as if sitting is much too passive a position to meet the demands of a sunrise of this magnitude. Nothing less than a standing ovation would do. Gendry gets to his feet and joins her, taking the hand closest to him. He holds her fist awkwardly for a moment, until she unballs her fingers and laces them between his. There’s no real reason this time, other than that he wants to. He wants to feel connected to her during this, wants to feel everything, and yet the truth is he’d settle for so much less.

The sun is rising in earnest now, filling the sky with oranges, reds, pinks, and all the shades in between those. He knows the science behind this, how molecules and small particles in the atmosphere scatter the rays from the sun to create the colors we see. They had the same high school science teacher, so he knows that Arya knows this too, but she looks at it like it’s a mystery, like it’s a big goddamn miracle and she’s amazed by every single second of it.

He feels a light squeeze on his fingers, and expects to see Arya looking up at him, but her eyes are still set straight ahead. A few seconds pass and he wonders if he imagined it, until she speaks.

“I’m glad it’s you here with me, Gendry.”

“So am I,” he says right away, squeezing her hand. “So am I.”

*****

Arya doesn't realize how long her hair has gotten until Gendry asks her for a hair tie, and then she first notices how long  _ his  _ hair is now. They’re just about to get a move on again, after stopping for some lunch and a bit of a break from a day of downhill switchbacks, making their way down from the sunrise at Conqueror’s.  _ Who would’ve thought going downhill could be harder than climbing?  _ She mentally apologizes to her quads and vows to do more squats once they’re home.

“Of course I have one, what sort of girl with shoulder length hair goes backpacking for three months without back up hair ties?” She'd thrown about fifty haphazardly in the different areas of her pack, and she hands him the extra one from around her wrist with a smirk. "Here ya go, Fabio." 

He laughs through his thank you, and she watches as he tries to figure out how to tie his hair back. It’s always been a little bit wavy,  _ except for during that time in high school we don’t talk about, when he bought a flat iron for his bangs _ . It almost reminds her of Jim Morrison now.  _ Not a bad thing _ , she notes,  _ not in the least _ . She really wants to offer to help him; she knows how soft his hair is and would love to run her fingers through it, telling him it's taking a long time because  _ man-buns are serious business, gods, Gendry, _ but she refrains.  _ When we make camp tonight maybe I'll ask him if I can braid it, I'd love to see it all wavy tomorrow. _

He finally figures it out the hair tie, apologizing for taking too long. It’s up in a messy attempt at bun, off-center a bit, with more than a few pieces of hair that haven’t made it into the tie, and she finds it absolutely adorable how proud of himself he seems. 

“You wanna do me a favor, Gendry?” she asks as they start back on the trail. There’s been an idea rolling around in her head for a while. “Since I so generously let you borrow a hair tie.”

“Sure, anything. Well, wait,” he pauses, actually stopping in the trail to turn towards her. “I am  _ not  _ carrying you.” 

“Very funny.” She grabs his pack and turns him back towards the trail, and gives him a little shove forward. “You’ve been kinda quiet the last few days… I was thinking that maybe… maybe you wanna sing something? Something… fitting.”

Arya thinks she’s ignoring her request, since he’s silent as they continue down the trail. Right when she’s about to tell him to forget about it, that it was a stupid thing to ask, she hears him start to hum. A few seconds later, right before his humming gets to the first verse, it hits her.

“Weezer,” she replies. He continues to hum, but he turns his head around and shoots her a smile. “Island in the Sun.”

Gendry starts to sing when he gets to the verse, and, surprising even herself, she joins him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an amazing day today (!!) and a lovely friend of mine said I should post an update as well. T, the Weezer is for you as well. Thanks for being my soundboard, babe.
> 
> Chapter title is lyrics from Island in the Sun.


	5. Raised on Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much needed break from the trail, small towns, hot showers. 
> 
> Middle of the second month, the halfway point.
> 
> Also: hey, look, the rating changed (wink wink)

The morning starts as it normally does, their routine having become so predictable that they’ve both wondered what it will be like when they get home. They take down camp and Gendry gets oatmeal for breakfast cooked, and she jokes about how he’ll have to come over and make breakfast for her more often, since she’s so used to it. When Arya goes through the day’s plans while they’re eating, she realizes that they’re already halfway through their hike as of that very day.

“It feels like we’ve been out here forever,” Gendry remarks after she tells him, “But at the same time, like it’s been hardly no time at all.” She can’t help but agree, especially with how the days blend together. If it weren't for the solar-powered phone charging mats her mother purchased for them, she wonders if they’d have lost count of the days by now.

They hike through the morning, eight miles taking them to their next major re-supply point. The town is bigger than any they've stopped in so far, with a historic downtown and park in the middle of everything. There's a military memorial, playground, white stone fountain with a couple of kids playing in it, even a fucking bandshell that looks like it actually gets used. It even has chain fast food restaurants and she has to summon all her willpower not to make a beeline to Wendy’s.

Her mom would call the town quaint, but it reminds Arya of that Pleasantville movie. It makes her want to sing Bruce Springsteen songs about small town America and take part in a pie eating contest. That thought sparks her interest quite a bit. _I wonder if we can find a bakery..._

With no further hiking on the itinerary for later in the day, they decide to split up their in-town errands, hoping it will give them some more time to relax that evening. Gendry heads off into town one way, on a mission to find them a place for them to stay that night, while Arya stops in at the post office to pick up the pack they’d mailed there ten weeks ago. She’s happy to have a couple brand new pairs of underwear and socks, but less thrilled at the thought that their re-supply of food still consists of only things that were able to survive the ten weeks of wait time - she makes a mental note to eat real food at a real restaurant that evening, even if it’s Applebee’s, she doesn’t care. Most of the towns they stopped in were used to the foot traffic in the summer months, specifically catering to hikers that came through, and this one is no different. Alongside the antique shops and grocery stores were multiple family-owned outdoorsy stores selling replacement tent stakes, freeze-dried meals, biodegradable toilet paper, and all the batteries you could imagine. They could’ve foregorn the resupply packs when stopping in towns like this, but half the time everything was grossly overpriced and she didn't like the idea of getting screwed over when a shop doesn’t have something they want.

When Gendry finally joins her, she’s laying on her back on a park bench, backpack on the ground and the cardboard box of new supplies next to it. It’d been hotter the last couple of days, now that it’s mid-July, but there’s a cool breeze in this town from the river they crossed this morning, and tons of shade from all the maples in the park. Her legs are crossed at the ankle, and her arms are stretched out with her hands folded under her head. She’s got her eyes closed, taking however much time as she can get to zone out for a while.

She hears him coming, recognizing his voice in the distance; as it gets closer she smirks, realizing she’s not the only one this town has inspired to sing blue collar classic rock.

“...raised on promises, she couldn’t help thinking that there was a little more to life, somewhere else...”

“After all, it was a great big world,” Arya finishes for him. When she opens her eyes he’s standing in front of the bench, looking down at her. She leans up just enough off the bench next to allow him the room to sit, and when he does she lays right back down, her head resting on his thigh. He sets his pack to the side and props his feet up on the cardboard box of supplies. When they’re both settled, Arya closes her eyes again and adds, “American Girl, Tom Petty.”

“One of these days it’ll be a song you won’t know.”

“Yea, you just keep trying.” She feels his hand brush over her forehead, moving her hair to the side. At first she thinks it’s just that, just to get her hair off her face, but his hand stays there, running through her hair as they talk. He has a tendency to do things like that, sometimes it’s awkward, but today it just feels _so right_ , and there’s no way she’s telling him to stop.

“Fits with this town though, doesn't it? Would you believe I saw a Boy Scout helping an old lady carry groceries? ...definitely not in Kings Landing anymore.”

“You find a us a place to stay during your exploration?” she asks, changing the subject. “Town this size oughta have a campground or RV park somewhere.”

“Found both, actually, but we're staying at neither.”

Arya lets out a sigh, disappointed. “Tent again?”

“Better.” She opens her left eye and looks up at him. “What would you say if I told you that tonight you’ll not only have a hot shower, but also a king-sized bed and a pillow that isn’t inflatable?”

A smile blooms across her face and she pushes herself up. Turning towards him, she pulls her feet underneath herself to sit cross-legged. “Um, I’d say ‘I love you,’ and then I’d ask ‘why are we still sitting here?’”

They grab their things and Gendry leads her through town to their destination. He stops on the sidewalk in front of a large pastel colored Victorian house. The landscaping is immaculate, expertly cared for gardens full of perennials: leafy ferns, hydrangeas, columbines and hostas in bloom. Weeping Japanese maples line the paver pathway that weaves from the sidewalk to the house. There’s a two-seater swing on the large wraparound porch, and a sign overhead that reads Lily of the Valley Bed & Breakfast.

“You know lily of the valleys are poisonous, right Gendry?”

“I mean, yea, but only to small mammals, right?”

“I _am_ a small mammal!” she exclaims. “If we’re being technical.”

“Does m’lady need to make use of a royal food taster, in case anyone attempts to poison you?” He attempts a curtsy, but the weight of his pack has him off balance and he almost falls over.

“Call me m’lady again and I’m buying you a fedora with ‘neckbeard’ embroidered on it for Christmas.” Her posture straightens as she pretends to threaten him, trying to get as much height as she can. It does almost nothing, with how much taller he is, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead.

He grins down at her, mirroring her stance. “Ya know, maybe I should cancel the reservation, we’ll save money if we stay at the state park…” He starts to turn to walk away.

“No no no, no you don't. I was promised a hot shower, a king sized bed, and a pillow that isn't inflatable.” Her fingers circle around his wrist and she pulls him towards the house. “We are staying.”

XxXxX

The owner shows them to their room together, and Arya immediately calls first dibs on the shower. She suggests that Gendry go back downstairs and speak with a concierge or someone like that, and try to find out where they should get dinner that evening. He agrees easily, and she’s glad he probably figures she is just obsessed with food, like usual, and can’t see that she’s just making excuses to get alone. The shower is calling to her, and she washes quickly, then stands under the spray, welcoming the seemingly never-ending hot water. It’s no surprise when her thoughts, and then hands, begin to stray someplace else.

It’s been weeks since she’s allowed herself this, much longer than she thinks she’s ever gone without before, and her body reacts in kind. Her fingers trail down her collarbones and over her breasts, cupping one then running her finger along the underside. They skirt down her stomach, delving between her legs; she parts her folds, closing her eyes when she discovers she’s already starting to get wet. _Guess this won't take long_. She thinks about how easily his large hands encircle her waist, the thought morphing into one of his hands pressing her down into the bed as the other finds its way between her legs. Arya knows his fingers are wider than hers and she imagines how amazing they'd feel, stretching her, keeping a steady pace pumping in and out. Her own hand dips down again, easily slipping two fingers inside, she jolts as the heel of her hand presses against her clit. It's not nearly enough though, and she knows it, remembering back to how she'd felt him nudged up against her ass on that cold night a couple weeks ago - she's still surprised she'd managed to fake sleep when all she wanted was to roll over and beg him fuck her, though she doubted he'd need much convincing.

Suddenly, she hears the door to their room open and shut, can hear him rustling with his pack, mere feet away from where she is in the shower, which she knows he’ll want after her. _Fuck it_ , she thinks.

Arya continues, removing her fingers and gathering more of her wetness and _oh, sweet Christ_ , she's absolutely soaking. She brings them up to her clit, and begins rubbing tight circles around the bundle of nerves. Closing her eyes again to try to concentrate, she finds she’s unable to stop thinking about him just outside the door, and _shit, he can’t hear this over the shower, can he?_ It _should_ bother her, should make her stop, but the idea of him hearing her, of him getting in the shower after her and smelling her arousal, knowing exactly what she just did, it only serves to spur her onward. _Maybe he’ll do the same_. She likes the thought of him stroking himself, wishing it was her small hands or her mouth wrapped around his cock instead. Her mind forms a vision of him between her legs and her breath hitches, her hand tight in his grown out black hair and her leg thrown over his shoulder, heel digging into his back; she’d be able to feel that bit of stubble he has rubbing on her inner thighs. Bright blue eyes flick up and lock onto hers and he sucks her clit into his mouth and--

_Oh, gods -_

She bites down on her fist of her free hand, sobbing out her release.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door and she jumps, nearly falling over. One of her hands shoots out, grabbing the towel rack to steady herself. “You almost done? I'd like a shower before the hot water runs out.”

“You could just come hop in with me,” she suggests, but truthfully even though she wants it, she's unsure of what she'd actually do if he took her up on it.

“Don't make threats you won't follow through on.”

 _Fucking hells_.

She groans, head leaning against the tile. “I'll be done in a minute, just gotta rinse out my hair.” Her hand reaches through the warm spray of water and grabs the shower knob, turning it over to cold.

——

He’s certain he shouldn’t do this here. Like five hundred percent certain. Not with her on the other side of the bathroom door. It’s the first time in a while when he knows he will be uninterrupted for as long as he wants, as long as the shower water keeps running.

 _The fucking shower_. He heard it as soon as he entered their room a few minutes ago, his imagination assaulting him with visions of her, naked, wet, with warm water running down her body. Except for the most part, he doesn’t need his imagination to envision this, not since a month or so ago when she decided that she doesn’t give a shit if he sees her naked. She changes clothes in front of him and has even gone so far as to get fully naked now when she washes herself in whatever lake or river they come to. It’s not rushed, but always mechanical, perfunctory.

Not at all the way he’s imagining her now, taking her sweet time, using body wash that actually makes a lather instead of that weird camping soap, running her hands over herself - hips and thighs, those perky tits he’s got memorized by now, and her amazing ass that’s sadly hidden in hiking pants all day. An errant thought crosses his mind, that maybe, _sweet Jesus_ , maybe she’s touching herself the way he wants to be touching her. He’s already half hard and he has to shove his fist in his mouth to stop himself from groaning at the thought of Arya getting herself off a mere ten feet away, separated only by an unlocked door and a shower curtain.  
  
So he knocks on the bathroom door and asks when she’ll be done. “I'd like a shower before the hot water runs out,” he adds.

“You could just come hop in with me.”

 _Fucking hells_ . Truthfully, he’d knock that door down and join her in two seconds flat… if only he had the barest of inklings that she wasn’t just messing around. _Two can play at this game_ , he thinks, and reverts back to that playful banter like they always do. It’s comfortable for them, he’s used to it, and he’s also used to that sarcastic tone of hers telling him she’s full of shit.

“Don't make threats you won't follow through on.”

He can hear her groan over the sound of the running water, and thinks that he’s not going to want to leave the shower once he’s in it either. “I'll be done in a minute,” she answers. “Just gotta rinse out my hair.”

  
He sits on the edge of the bed, then hears the shower stop and the curtain slide open. A few minutes later, the door opens and Arya walks out, bright white bath towel wrapped around her middle, giving him an amazing view of her thighs when she walks. Crossing his legs, he hopes it works to draw attention away from his hard-on. Her hair is slicked back, and he realizes it’s longer now, the still-wet ends leaving drops of water to trail down her shoulders.

Fantasy Gendry would pull her down to the bed with him, peel the towel off, map out every inch of her body with his hands and mouth, learning what makes her breath catch in her throat and exactly what it takes to hear his name on her lips when she comes.

Real life Gendry does none of that, zoning out in his own headspace instead.

“Gendry!” His head snaps up. Arya leans in, one hand holding the towel in place, one on his shoulder, gently shaking him. She smells clean, like rosemary and mint, and he knows he will too after his shower. “Ground control to Gendry Waters. Shower’s all yours, space cadet.”

Fiddling with the hot and cold knobs, he turns the water as hot as he can stand. For a moment, he tries to ignore his cock, not think about how it’s throbbing for relief, not think about Arya _at all_ ,  especially not in that bath towel, but he fails miserably. _Fuck that_. Taking himself in hand, he starts slowly, purposeful even. He runs his thumb over the head, smearing the pre-cum that's gathered there already, and tries to keep quiet, the last thing he wants is for Arya to hear - he knows she’d never let him forget it. When it starts to feel like his knees are buckling in, he rests his head and left arm against the tile wall. Visions of Arya dance behind his eyes, her small hand on him instead of his, that proud smirk on her face as her eyes never leave his. She goes up on her toes, capturing his lips with hers, then winking as she drops to her knees. Not hesitant at all, her tongue licks a stripe from base to tip, then she takes him in her mouth, head bobbing excitedly as her hand strokes the part of his length she’s unable to take.

His pace has quickened, it feels like a current of electricity is running straight up his spine and he’s close, so close that, _ohgodfuck_ \--

The door opens quickly, and he freezes when he hears Arya walk into the bathroom and begin rummaging through the cabinets. _Great, just an amazing turn of events_ . He’d thought it was difficult enough knowing Arya was in the shower when he was in the other room, but now she’s in here, three feet away, and he’s still got his hand wrapped around his cock, painfully close to coming when she barged in. _Thank god she can’t see through this shower curtain_.

A cabinet bangs shut and he hears her mutter _fucking hell_ under her breath. _Yea, that’s about what this situation is._

“Everything alright?”

“Yes and no,” she replies. “Just looks like there’s no hairdryer. Guess I’ll walk down to the front desk and ask for one. Back in a few.”

A second later, the bathroom door closes and he’s alone again, and he manages to wait until he hears the faint sound of their room door shutting before letting out loud frustrated groan. It does nothing to make him feel better about the situation, or that the fact that, for some ungodly reason, he’s still just as hard as he was before Arya came in. The interruption screws over his ability to concentrate, rendering him unable to think clearly anymore, and so he finishes himself off quickly, and carries on with his shower.

He's brushing his teeth when she returns, towel slung dangerously low on his hips. He's not completely sure why - he's dry save for his hair, he could've just put some pants on. Part of him wants to give her a taste of her own medicine from earlier, and part wants to show off, show her what she's missing. _Turns out daily cardio and the lack of late night Taco Bell runs are a good way to cut fat_.

“Find a hair dryer?” he asks as she walks past, stopping in front of the open sink on the other side of him.

She holds it up, posing like one of Charlie's Angels with it. “You find us a place for dinner?” she asks as she unwinds the cord and plugs it in.

“Yup,” is all he says. He taps some water off his toothbrush on the side of the sink, replacing it in its case. When he doesn’t continue, she quirks her head to the side, waiting for some more information. “Well, I was gonna have it be a surprise, but how does Chinese sound?”

“Like a fucking dream. Good job.” She reaches past him, grabs the hairbrush off the counter and begins to brush out her hair. “What are you waiting for? Go get dressed!” Taking a step closer, she hip checks him towards the door.

 _Welp, looks like that plan failed_ , he realizes, hearing the hair dryer switch on. She’s giving him absolutely zero hint if she's at all affected by him being almost naked right next to her. He begins to pull out some clothes to wear and starts to change. _Maybe she’s horribly flustered right now and just holding it all in. It wouldn’t be like the Arya I know to let her poker face crack that easily._

The hair dryer turns off and he hears her yell from the bathroom, “Just you wait, Gendry, I’m gonna eat my weight in shrimp lo mein. You’re gonna be super impressed.”

 _Ah, yes, there’s the Arya I know_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have Arya's willpower, I'd have run straight to that Wendy's and ate so. many. nuggets.


	6. Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes, arguments, breaking points, turning points.
> 
> End of the second month.

Everything just boils over one day. Arya silently chides herself, feeling like there’s no way this could’ve been avoided and she should’ve seen it coming from miles away. The way he pulls her into him at night, almost every night now, save for the few nights when it’s been too hot or humid. The comfortable silences they share each morning and night as they break down or set up camp, expertly maneuvering around each other during their various tasks. The excited way he stops on the trail, waving her over to hear him proudly identify some plant, or better yet, point out an animal common to the area. _Gendry, we’re gonna be on this trail forever if you keep stopping to point out every chipmunk you see_. She’s well aware of how his eyes are on her when she changes, it’s even obvious he’s trying his best to be inconspicuous. Oh, and she can’t get the image of him half naked at the bed  & breakfast out of her mind. The sight of him with that towel at his hips, with his stupid abs, and broad chest at eye level is burned into her retinas.

So far, it's been two months of almost perfect hiking bliss, the main disagreements being about which package of camp food they’d rehydrate that evening, who ate the last of the good jerky, and the direction the tent ought to face. It was too perfect, much too perfect.

It’d been raining on them since they broke camp that morning, making what should’ve been an easy hike into a slow, muddy, and slippery trudge. Their boots have enough tread to be safe, but they’re still both on edge from having to pay more attention to the path in front of them, and even having the appropriate waterproof gear doesn’t make hiking in the rain any less annoying.

Thankfully, the sky cleared in the second half of the day, giving them time to dry out and not have to set up camp in the rain that evening. They arrive at their stopping point, another trailside camp area, almost the exact same as they’ve stayed at the majority of nights on the trail, except this one has a picnic table. It’s empty, which Arya thinks is a godsend - she’s still a bit damp from the rain, has a growing headache, and frankly doesn’t really want to talk to Gendry, let alone a bunch of strangers. Without saying a word, he starts to set up the tent and Arya begins to take out and organize their supplies for dinner - which is when she realizes something is very off.

“Gendry, can you, um, come take a look at this.” They’d split the work up methodically - with Arya grouping together packets of food labeled with town names and the number of days on the trail, then Gendry matching them up with the cardboard boxes that had the mailing labels of the same towns on them. “Let me know when you see what’s missing.”

He joins her at the table and sees she’s taken all the food out of the bear canister and spread it out across the tabletop. A few seconds pass, then maybe thirty, and finally he breathes out, “Oh, fuck.”

They last town they were in was Appledale, and every single one of these packs of food is labeled Avondale - and there’s three days less food than there should be.

She yells, and she swears, and she uses her quick temper for everything it’s worth. He just keeps apologizing, _as if it’s going to make more food magically appear_ . In the moment, it just makes her all the more incensed - at his crazy idea to do this hike in the first place, at his stupid songs, at how they’re going to have to ration out food until they get to another town. Arya’s fuming, feet stomping and muttering out things like _motherfuckingshitfuck_ through her teeth, while Gendry gathers up the pouches of food and replaces them into the bear canister. She watches him walk past her, resigned, and sit down on a low bench made from a log. He’s slumped over and cradling his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples. He’s so beat down and she’s just hungry for a fight and then she says it.

“Ya know what, Gendry? I think I’m sorry I ever agreed to come on this trip.” She's never been great at thinking before she speaks, and regrets the words as they leave her mouth. Sucking in a breath, she looks away, waiting to see how he’ll possibly reply to her hasty words.

“You’re – _you’re_ sorry?” His voice is louder, rougher than it’s been since she started yelling. There it is, there’s there little bit of anger she was trying to coax out of him earlier. “For fuck’s sake, I was gonna ask you to marry me and –”

“What?” Her head whips around to look at him faster than she thought was possible. Her mind is still stuck on how she really shouldn’t have said what she did, and now his admission sends her reeling. _There’s no way he really said that. Maybe I’m delirious_ . “Hold the fucking phone. You were gonna ask me to _what?”_

“Marry me, Arya.” His posture straightens, and she realizes he's not really asking a question, yet also not commanding: it's an offering.

Her outbursts about the upcoming lack of food are long forgotten as she stares at him, trying to process that Gendry has clearly been in the woods too long and somehow lost his damn mind. _Maybe it’s all the chemicals in the bug spray._

“What in the good sweet fuck are you on about? _Marry you?_ We’ve never even kissed.” _Well, that one time,_ she recalls, trying not to let any fondness show on her face. It'd been a few years back, at a bar, and she'd saved him from being hit on by a girl she knew he didn't like. “Hells, Gendry, I didn’t even know you had those types of feelings for me.”

“Well, I’d be more than happy to kiss you, and I don’t just have _those types_ of feelings for you. I love you, I’m in love with you, and I’m pretty damn sure it’s mutual.”

“The fact that it’s mutual is beside the point,” she spits out harshly, breath hitching when she realizes she’s just angrily confessed her feelings to him. _Well, fuck. Guess that’s out of the way now_. “Just… just give me a moment to process all this.”

A few seconds pass, maybe half a minute, before she speaks again. “What about dating? You wanna marry me and we’ve never been out on a date.”

“Arry, you act like we’re strangers. We’ve been inseparable since you were in ninth grade and around each other for 24 hours a day in the wilderness for the past two months. I think we’re beyond dating.”

She exhales, stops her slow pacing, and sits down on the log next to him as she starts to really think. Her first thought goes to her mom. When Arya had initially told her about their summer plans, she mentioned that she was quite frankly surprised at how Gendry was going all out with this… but her mom had just laughed and shook her head. _Arya, you of all people should realize by now that Gendry never does anything by halves_ , she’d said.

Now, that comment sticks in her head and she thinks back to his senior prom, and how they went as _just friends_ . In spite of that, he'd borrowed one of her favorite cars from a friend of his foster dad, a red ‘67 Chevy Stingray, and he'd taken social dance lessons at the community center. She recalled how much he blushed when she found out. _It's not a debutante ball, Gen, you don't need partner dance lessons. It's prom, everyone just grinds on each other_. The only part of his face she couldn't tell was red was covered by that awful emo swoosh bang haircut he'd had, the one that made him look like the singer from My Chemical Romance. With all her smart mouth comments and jokes about how cheesy the dance was, the entire night - from the way he held her hand when they walked anywhere, the feel of his arms around her waist from behind as the posed for pictures beneath the balloon arch, to saying _might as well_ , and letting him use those lessons he took to guide her around the dance floor during every single slow song - was more than she thought her little love struck sixteen year old heart could take.

She thinks about all the concerts they'd been to, from Warped Tours to local hall shows and everything in between. He was always pulling her up front so she could see, then guarding her, his hands on either side of her, gripping the front barricade. They'd spent hours after concerts waiting to see if they could meet the band, huddled together for warmth outside alleyway exit doors. Some nights all they got were frozen fingers and toes, soaking wet hoodies from standing in downpours, or yelled at by stage managers and roadies to go the fuck home. But every once in a blue moon it paid off spectacularly, as evidenced by a framed photo of both of them with Greg Gaffin having a place of importance on both their desks.

But it’s not just a couple of good memories from a dance from six years ago or a few concerts, but everything else in between. That day when she was in ninth grade and they met in zero hour detention - her there for skipping geometry one too many times and him there as the teacher’s aide - to right now, with him sitting just a few inches from her, silently waiting for an answer that’s going to change everything, no matter what she says. It’s every late night phone call and every early morning text, it’s the coffees she dropped off on his desk for him when he started teaching, the nights he appeared at her dorm room with ice cream and DVDs of crappy 80s science fiction movies in an attempt to keep her mind off whichever guy or girl had broken up with her this time, and each and every time she sat with him on the floor of his office, doing her damnedest to cut through his mountains of self-doubt and convince him he does know what he’s doing, that he’s an excellent teacher, and that he has nothing to worry about when he defends his thesis.

_I love him_ , she tells herself, a fact which she already knows, _and I’m sick and tired of pretending that I don’t._

It feels like years for Gendry as he watches her struggle with the bomb he knows he’s just dropped on her. While he’s happy that she at least realized he’s serious about what he’s asking her, a large part of him is surprised she didn’t deck him, and hopes that since she didn’t go with fight, that she won’t choose flight and just run from him. _Though we’re fifteen miles from the closest town, so at least that’s not realistic_. Truthfully, it’s not at all the way he wanted his proposal to go. In his mind he always said the words properly at a planned out location and time, not let them slip out in anger, in some twisted attempt to one up her. He had meant what he said a few minutes earlier, he genuinely feels they’re ready for this, and physical relationship aside, they’ve been together for years. When she finally places a hand on top of his, he freezes and keeps his eyes trained straight ahead.

“Okay,” she breathes out.

“Okay?”

She lets out another breath that’s half laugh. Arya gives his hand a quick squeeze, then gets up from next to him and stands directly in front, facing him. “Yes, Gendry,” she states, firmly this time. “This is crazy and somewhat backwards, but I’m so tired of pretending like we’re just friends, like I’m not absolutely stupid for you.” She holds out her arms and lets them flop down to her sides. “So that’s a yes, I’ll marry you.”

The dopey grin she’s come to love over eight years erupts across his face, and before she can make a sassy remark about it, he’s on his feet and she’s hoisted up in the air. His arms wrap around her thighs, raising her up and spinning around, excitedly calling out, “She said yes! She said yes!”

Eventually she gets dizzy from the spinning, and begs through her laughter to be put down, telling him yet again that she’s sure he’s scared all the woodland critters away with the commotion.

“This is unbelievable,” she says once she’s back on her feet and catches her breath. “But good. My mom is gonna flip her shit… and Sansa, _oh gods_ , Sansa…” She walks away from him for a moment, just pacing a bit at their campsite, and he sits back down, on the tabletop of the picnic table this time. She stops her pacing and joins him a moment later.

She leans against him, just lightly, when she hops up next to him. “You’re gonna marry me,” she repeats, her voice far away, like she can’t quite believe it yet.

“That’s the plan.” His arm goes around her, sliding down to her waist, pulling her in closer to him. Arya’s mind is going every which way, and she can’t keep the smile off her face or the contented sighs and little laughs from escaping her lips every so often.

“Were you really gonna ask me?”

“Not like that, but yea, eventually. Maybe when the hike was done and I was too used to having you with me all the time. It's always been you, Arya, you know that, don't you?” She doesn't say anything, just nods against his shoulder in reply. They sit like that, just comfortable, for what feels like forever. Some minutes later, Arya’s stomach breaks the silence, growling loudly.

“It’s going to get dark soon, we should probably finish setting up camp and then get dinner going.” She knocks her shoulder into his before hopping off the table.

“Arya, wait,” she hears him say, and when she turns, he’s striding to her, closing the distance in a couple steps. He stops, toes of his hiking boots grazing hers, and raises a hand, brushing messy hair off her face and cupping her cheek. “I should've done this years ago, and I'm not waiting any longer,” he breathes out, then bends down to kiss her.

The angle is awkward, her head craned up to meet him, but Arya wastes no time, teeth nipping at his bottom lip then running her tongue across it, begging for entrance that's quickly granted. His lips are chapped from today’s wind and she can feel the calluses on his hands on her cheeks. He walks her a step or two back, and she pulls away for a second, stepping up onto the log bench when her heels hit it. With the added height, she slides her hands up his arms to circle his neck and he splays a hand at the small of her back, holding her flush against him. For a moment, they’re both still, just looking at each other, eyes flitting across each other’s faces. He brings a hand up to her face, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, then closing the gap between them again. Gendry kisses her like he does most things, thoroughly, deliberately. It feels like each press of his mouth against hers, each time he sucks her lower lip into his mouth and runs his teeth across it, it’s with grand intent, with the distinct purpose to try to express every feeling he has for her. It's not the most sophisticated first kiss, and Arya smiles each time their noses bump together, but they wind up finding a rhythm, a push and pull marked by teeth and little bites and eight years of pent up feelings.

It feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging out so long everyone. 
> 
> Much love to T, for her overwhelming support, listening to my millions of headcanons, and helping pick out that sweet car for Arya's prom. 
> 
> Greg Gaffin, is the lead singer of punk band Bad Religion, but also a professor and author of books on evolution and atheism.


	7. We’re Different Tonight, Tonight

Keeping in line with true Arya fashion, she reminds him, again, that she’s hungry once they finally come up for air.

“A girl can’t live on making out alone, Gendry,” she replies when he asks if something is wrong.

“I thought we could try?”

“Hah, real funny. You’ve known me long enough by now to know how I get when I’m hungry.” She hands over the bear canister he just repacked moments ago. “Come on, pick something special out for our first official dinner as a couple.”

He joins her and rummages through the various packages, eventually pulling two out after making indecisive faces at the majority of them. “Chili Mac? And that random pack of blueberry cobbler we bought managed to make it in here too.”

“You sure do know how to treat a lady, Gendry.”

“Well, don’t speak too soon. We might eat well tonight, but it was still my dumb ass that mixed up Appledale and Avondale.”

She tilts her head to the side, and he knows she’s agreeing with him. “Just shut up and make me dinner.” She takes the CamelBak water bladder out of her backpack and hands it to him. “Besides, there’s no one else I’d rather ration food with than you.”

XxXxX

It feels like his touch is everywhere, but it’s not nearly enough, not with how the feeling is muted through her layers of clothes. He pulls her close, her legs going over his lap, just moments after they finish eating, and kisses her. Slowly now, not like their first kiss just thirty minutes ago. He threads a hand into hair and holds her flush against his chest, groaning when she opens her mouth for him. Gendry thinks he could get used to this: her hand pulling on his hair as she allows him to finally touch her how he pleases, smoothing his palm up her calves and strong thighs, holding on tight to her hips and moving up her waist, the feeling of how she shudders when his fingers run along the sliver of exposed skin created by her shirt riding up.

“Wait, wait a second,” she breathes, placing another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she pulls back slightly. She places a hand on his chest while the other continues to run through his hair.

“Fuck, Arry. Is this too soon?” he begins, apologizing. “I just thought that —”

“What?”

“You’re right,” he continues, “We shouldn’t do this here. I already totally messed up the proposal, I don’t know what I was thinking. You deserve a proper bed at least and—”

“Gendry!” She cuts him off, surging forward to press her lips to his in an attempt to quiet him. “I was going to say we should get everything from dinner put away so the bears don't show up, and then we should move this little party into the tent.”

Arya’s never seen him clean up faster.

XxXxX

She’s already halfway done with the snaps on her flannel when he’s got the tent zipped up again. He takes a cue from her, diligently working at the buttons on his shirt. There’s an air of expectation surrounding them, different than every other night that they undress for bed. Arya shrugs her shirt off and tosses it into the corner, leaving her in the sweat wicking T-shirt she’s worn all day. She rises up to her knees, as much as the tent allows and walks herself towards him. Grabbing both his hands, she moves them away from his buttons, replacing them with her own and undoing the last two remaining ones. Her hands move up his chest to push it off his shoulders, then immediately go for the hem of his shirt. Much too tall, he has to bend over forward to avoid hitting the top of the tent as she helps pull it off him.

“You too.” She wastes no time, just pulls her shirt over her head, taking her sports bra along with it. He reaches for her then, hands nervous as they undo her belt — it takes him three tries to pop the button on her shorts. The noise from the zipper teeth is loud, and _it's happening, it's happening, it's happening_ , echoes in Arya’s head. A beat passes before Arya grabs him by his front two belt loops, pulls him into her and down to the makeshift sleeping bag bed. He slots himself between her legs, supporting some of his weight on his arms, but she immediately decides she loves the way he feels, on top of her, solid, pressing her down into the sleeping bags.

  
He takes her chin in hand, kissing her quickly before moving her head to the side, moving his way down the column of her neck, leaving red blooms across her skin in the wake of his path. She’s all soft gasps and murmured words of praise as his tongue worships one breast and then the other, but when he sucks a nipple into his mouth, her hips snap up into his, and she groans deep in her throat when she feels his hardness. He releases her nipple and makes his way across the underside of her breast, tongue swirling across her skin, amazed at the way he’s able to make her squirm.

“Fuck, Arry, I wish I could see you,” he whispers into the hollow between her breasts.

“I think I can arrange that.” She crawls over and unzips the tent, just enough for her hand to fit, and he can tell by the noises that she’s going through her pack. Gendry zips the tent shut when she’s done and back inside. Arya carries her headlamp in and she flicks it on, tying it up to a loop and aiming it at the peak of the tent, bathing the inside in soft light.

She leans back on her arms and looks at him; the position makes her small breasts stick out, rising and falling with her breathing. Arya watches him as he drinks her in, his eyes roaming over her thighs and the way her hip bones stick out, the flat planes of her stomach, and she smirks as they linger at her breasts before meeting her gaze. She has to stifle a gasp at the way he’s looking at her, like he wants to eat her alive, and it’s sends a rush of electricity straight to her core.

“You’re magnificent.”

“Gendry...” Her tone sounds like she’s trying to chastise him for the compliment and he won’t allow it.

“Magnificent,” he repeats, eyes still boring into hers, willing her to believe it. Joining her, he lies down on his side facing her, head propped up in his right hand; his fingers are running wild patterns along her sides, her ab muscles clenching as they move inward, unused to his touch. They graze over the softness below her belly button and cup her over top of her panties, and she whines at the pressure, eyelashes fluttering closed.

She hears him shift positions, and giggles erupt from her lips when she feels kisses pressed from her hip bones downward, closer and closer, and her eyes fly open when kisses her, open-mouthed, through the fabric. Moving back up to her elbows she looks down at him, then reaches forward to run a hand through his hair, thankfully not up in that man-bun thing today, and when she tugs at it, she’s rewarded by his eyes on hers and the most delicious moan she thinks she’s ever heard.

“I’ve fantasized about what you’d look like with your head between my legs more times than you can imagine.”

“Gods, Arya —“

“Take them off.” She nods quickly downward, then adds an almost whiny, “ _Now_.”

He runs a finger under the waistband before hooking his fingers through on both sides, and she pops her hips up, allowing him to pull them over her ass and down her legs. They’re quickly discarded over his back to some corner of the tent.

For a quick second she’s self conscious, her mind fixating on her legs that aren’t shaved, and the hair between them that she usually takes care of, and that she hasn’t bathed in water that wasn’t from a river for five days... but that all fades when she notices how Gendry looks at her, like she’s everything, like she’s flawless. She watches, eyes wide, as his tongue darts out and he licks lips before he lowers his mouth to her. It's an overwhelming flurry of sensations, hot breath and the way the beginnings of a beard rub along her inner thighs, the way he sucks and nips at the sensitive skin there, and she wants it all. The marks he's leaving, indents from where he bit down on her shoulder earlier, his nails down the back of her thighs; she wants the evidence left that proves he's been there.

He parts her folds, running his fingers through her wetness, and _fuck_ , he can feel it overflowing and running down her ass and it fills him with a sort of pride that it's all because of him, all for him. He eases a finger in, and takes his time learning her, enjoying watching her and cataloguing every reaction. Her hand comes down to his and small fingers circle his wrist, and he obediently follows her breathy demands of _more_ and _two fingers._ The growl that leaves her throat when he curls his fingers is almost enough to make him come right then and there and it opens the floodgates of her guiding him. A quick study, he pays close attention to her pleas of _yes, right there_ , and _pleasefuckplease_ , and _I need your mouth on me now._

Especially that last one.

Her hips jolt upward at the first touch of the tip of his tongue to her clit, and he presses her back down into the sleeping bag with his free hand. He continues, hand and mouth working in tandem, letting himself be guided by her. Her breath is ragged and a hand is in his hair, walking the line between lightly stroking and then holding him in place as she grinds herself on his tongue. Somehow her climax sneaks up on her, one second she's keen to enjoy the slow circles he's drawing on her skin forever, then she catches his eye and it's just like her fantasy - clear blue eyes burn into hers and he curls his fingers, sucks that little bundle of nerves between his lips, and she's gone. She falls over the edge hard, thighs tight around the sides of his head twitching, as a string of swear words leaves her mouth.

There's still little aftershocks from her orgasm reverberating through her legs, but she releases his head from their clutches. He grins at her, obviously proud of himself, and she laughs at him for a quick second; then is struck into slack-jawed silence as watches him bring his middle and forefingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The moment he seems to finish she surges forward, pressing her mouth to his, eagerly parting his lips, impatiently trying to find out just how good it feels to taste herself on him.

He shucks his pants off eagerly and they join the growing piles of clothes in the corner. She smoothes a hand down his stomach, slipping under the waistband on his boxer briefs, he moans into her mouth when she palms him. He's hot and heavy in her hand, and he ends the kiss, scrambling to remove the last offending piece of clothing as she begins run her fingers along his length, almost lazily, just enjoying the power she wields over him like this.

“Do you want me to…?” Her voice trails off, but it’s obvious what she means.

“No! Shit, I mean, _yes_.” His eyes are pools of pitch black ink, pupils blown as he looks at her, and she knows he's imagined this before. “Later.”

Her small hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly as she helps guides him to her. He swears she’s going to be the death of him, that wicked look in her eyes as she runs the tip through her wetness, breath hitching each time she goes high enough to bump against her clit. A large part of him can’t believe this is real and that’s when it hits him — _I’m a goddamn idiot._

“Fuck, Arya—”

“That's the plan.”

“I know, but we, I… don't have anything, a condom... I never thought this would--”

She surprises him with a sigh and half a laugh, taking his hand in hers. “Did you forget?” He hisses through his teeth when she digs her nails into his palm, half moon indents and then --

Oh, he remembers now.

****

Her short nails dug into his forearm, she’d had a death grip on it since they'd left his car. He'd been confused earlier in the day when she'd asked him to go to Planned Parenthood with her. “You're not… Arya, are you?” he asked softly, his voice a mixture of sadness and concern, concealing his urge to punch Ned Dayne’s pretty boy face off his fucking shoulders.

“What? No, no. The opposite. I made an appointment weeks ago for an IUD and now that it's here I'm…” She finished her sentence so softly he couldn't hear.

“You're what?”

“I'm scared, okay? Will you just come with me?”

“What about Ned? Shouldn't he be going with you?” He realized the bite in his voice made it sound like he had something against Dayne, but he'd been the favorite of guys she'd dated, they got along quite well. “Does he have to work?” He knew Ned would go if she asked and he could.

“I didn't ask him.” Embarrassment was not an emotion he saw often in Arya. She lowered her gaze to her hands and when she looked back up her eyes were wet, full of tears that threatened to spill over. “He's not… he's not _you_ , Gendry.”

So he sat there in the surprisingly homey waiting room with her, talking about everything and nothing to keep her distracted until her name was called. When she walked back, another man in the waiting room gave him a half smile and a nod, he knew what it must've looked like they were there for. He busied himself on his phone and got halfway through a five month old copy of Better Homes & Gardens, before she emerged, looking slightly paler but no worse for the wear. He bought her mango cheesecake from Whole Foods and extra strength ibuprofen, and she fell asleep on his couch halfway through Hackers.

****

“So, you're okay with this?”

She silences his hesitations with a deep kiss, and smiles against his lips when she pulls back, nodding her head just in case. “Please, Gendry,” her voice needy, insistent.

He's never been able to deny her anything.

Arya leans up, onto her forearms, watching as he takes himself in hand, lining up the head of his cock to her entrance. She winks at him, one last reassurance, and he presses in slowly, watching her face, the way her mouth hangs open yet she keeps her eyes trained on him. They both let out a breath once he’s fully seated in her, and they’re still for a moment. It’s exquisite, how he feels - better than his fingers and certainly better than hers - reaching everywhere she wants. His eyes are on her face, waiting for a sign that tells him to move. Arya doesn't tell, she shows, rolling her hips and snapping them into his as best she can given his weight on her, and the moan that escapes his lips is intoxicating. She’s always loved to surprise him and this new aspect of their relationship will be no different.

It takes a couple of tries, but once they find a rhythm, he tucks a hand under her lower back, then reaches down to palm her ass, pulling her closer. She brings her legs further up his back, heels digging in, and she gasps, breathing out _ohsweetfuck_ , when she feels the new angle he’s able to reach.

No amount of imagining could’ve adequately prepared him for what this would actually be like. In his fantasies, she’s always vocal, based off how she is in every other situation, and this is no different. He soon learns that he’s going to love the way she clings to him, how her short fingernails scramble for purchase and dig into his shoulder blades, pulling him in as close as she can get him. She meets him halfway, in this, in everything, her hips rising to meet his, and her hands weave everywhere they can reach. Her fingertips are warm and they burn a trail as they wander over him, grabbing tightly on his shoulders and up into his hair, holding his head steady as she turns it to the side, sucking hard kisses into that spot below his ear. He wants to take his time, memorize all of her, from the smattering of freckles on her lower left rib cage that he just noticed, to how to her hair fans out around her head - the dark brown in distinct contrast from the bright blue sleeping bag beneath it.

But he feels her walls start to flutter around him and knows she's almost there, knows that once she comes he won’t be holding on much longer. “Touch yourself.” It comes out much more commanding than he'd planned.

“Yes, sir,” she replies, removing her hand from the nape of his neck. She picks up on the grumble he makes, low in his throat, how his hips snap into hers with more force, and she realizes - “Oh, you like that, don't you?”

“We can… discuss… our kinks... later,” he manages to get out, the sentence pieced together between ragged breathes and each of his thrusts.

Arya runs her hand down his chest, a smile on her lips when she snakes it between their bodies. “Promise?” she breathes out, voice cracking with the first brush of her fingers across her clit.

He can feel her clenching around him with each pass she makes and he leans in, his voice rough and low, all the words he thought were impossible to say are possible, and they come tumbling out of his mouth. How fucking gorgeous she is, spread out beneath him. How amazing she feels, tight, wet, warm around his cock. He can feel her hand moving faster, and he continues, _that’s right, you came so pretty earlier, Arya. Look at me, babe_ , and when she does her bottom lip is tight between her teeth. He feels her walls tighten around him, little spasms starting, can hear her breath coming out in short huffs and then she explodes around him, he feels himself coated by another surge of wetness. He grabs on to her hips tightly as her back arches, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and she throws her head backwards.

His name on her lips escapes as an almost strangled growl as she comes. His words of praise, of begging her, his eyes on her, or the last strike of her fingers over her clit - Arya isn’t sure what pushes her over but she doesn’t care. She pushes the heel of her hand against her clit, riding out the last few waves of her orgasm that continue to run through her.

His thrusting speeds up, her breath coming out sharply each time he fills her to the hilt again, and she pulls herself together for a moment. “It’s okay,” she whispers, “Let go,” then pulls him down, crashing his lips to hers and kissing him.

Seconds later, he pulls his mouth off hers and buries his face into her neck, hips faltering, stuttering, losing that perfect rhythm when he comes. His breath is hot on her neck, her skin there vibrating as he moans through his release; she feels his cum, warm inside her, and instead of the the normal squicked out ‘that’s gonna make a mess’ feeling, she feels something different - possession. _Mine_ , she thinks, _he’s mine_.

When he removes himself from her shoulder, he pulls out of her, and before she has time to whine at the loss of that full feeling, he takes her face in his hands and pulls her up to meet him. His lips are warm, pliant, surprisingly calming, as he coaxes her lips apart. It’s almost sweet, and Arya relishes every opportunity she has to learn this side of him.

When he finally lets her go, he grabs his hiking pants and passes her his bandana from one of the pockets, something to clean herself up with. “I’ll just try to remember not to tie my hair back with it tomorrow,” he adds, and she laughs at the thought. She folds it and throws it in the opposite corner, where she thinks her underwear probably wound up, and then lifts the sleeping bag up for him up join her.

“Hey, Gendry,” Arya says to get his attention, a few moments later, and he nuzzles impossibly further into that space between her neck and shoulders. “I can’t remember if I said so earlier, during the, um, the fight… but I do love you, and I’m in love with you.” She thinks he may have gotten the idea earlier, but it’s been eating at her to actually say it aloud since then, and in the spirit of things, she tells him that too. “I just needed to say it. I’d thought that all of this was impossible for so goddamn long, it feels like a weight is lifted off me.”

“...the impossible is possible tonight.”

She stiffens a bit, and turns around in his arms. “Really, Gen? Now?” He nods. “Fine. Smashing Pumpkins, Tonight Tonight.” Leaning in, she kisses him quickly before she turns back around, snuggling back into him. “Now go to sleep.”


	8. It's not in the way you look or the things that you say that you'll do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath, endings, and flashes forward.
> 
> The last few weeks on the trail and a little time jump.

It doesn’t take as much getting used to as she thought it would, adjusting to the change in the way they act towards each other now that it’s all out in the open.

Arya quickly starts to take every opportunity to be nearer to Gendry. She grabs his hand when there’s enough room to hike side by side, doesn’t scoff or roll her eyes quite as much when he offers to help her up from the ground or when there’s tough trail to climb.

In the same way, he takes every chance he gets to kiss her, or makes up chances when they don’t present themselves on their own. He kisses her soundly each morning, amazed she’s still there and actually his. There’s this look he gets, one that’s one part hesitation and ninety-nine parts of what she thinks is pure need; it usually crosses his face seconds before her back is pushed up against the nearest tree trunk, and his mouth is pressed to hers, lips hot and insistent. He surprises her with chaste, quick pecks, eyes lingering on hers as he pulls away, a promise that he’d drag her into the tent as soon as it got set up, pull her clothes off and fuck her into the sleeping bags.

She mentions it, offhand and nonchalant, one day while they’re eating lunch.

“Arya,” he starts, but, _of course_ , she thinks, he leans over and presses a kiss into her hair, despite how disgusting it is, “I’ve spent eight years keeping you at arm’s length, watching other people kiss you, watching _you_ kiss other people. I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d never act this way around other people, but they’re alone and she feels her heart just melt into a little Arya puddle.

XxXxX

She squirms in his arms, finally saying, “Gen, can you let go for a minute?”

Instead, his arms tighten, and he pulls her naked form closer. “I’ll never let go, Arya,” he murmurs into her hair.

“Whoa now, Jack Dawson, I think it’s a little early for Titanic quotes.” His breath is warm against her skin and she can feel him laugh against her neck. “But seriously, you need to let me get up.”

“But why? I’m comfy.”

“I need to go outside and use the little girls’ tree.” She pushes his arms off from around her and quickly pulls a t-shirt on. It’s his, she realizes, but she doesn’t feel like rifling through the pile of discarded clothes for hers. “If I get a UTI while we’re hiking, I’ll be miserable and you won’t hear the end of it.”

“Alright, alright.” He sits up in the sleeping bag and leans forward, elbows on his knees, watching her shuffle towards the tent flap. “I don’t need the gory details, just say you have to pee.”

She slips her flip flops on and scoots outside, then pokes just her head back inside the tent. “By my calculations, you’re stuck with me for like sixty more years, you better get used to the gory stuff.”

With that, she quickly zipped the tent up, walking off while listening to Gendry’s roaring laughter.

XxXxX

The conversation shifts one day to their apartments, and how maybe it's not a bad idea if she moves in with him. He has a tendency to be the romantic in their dynamic, a fact which surprises neither of them, but every so often, sentimental words flow out of her that bowl him over. The moving in together talk was one of those times. He mentions it as they're hiking, purposely giving practical reasons - his apartment is larger, has covered parking spots, and a dishwasher; hers has shit water pressure, upstairs neighbors who he’s convinced have elephants as pets, and the walls are so poorly insulated she has to run the heat in October, even though it's Kings Landing. He doesn't say that he's sick of going without her, that he wants to make her breakfast on weekend mornings, and not have to come up with excuses to hang out a little while longer.

“Ya know, it's only been two weeks since we got together,” she starts, and he braces himself for the let down. “But I don't want to imagine what it's like not falling asleep in your arms every night, or not waking up next to you every morning. My lease isn't up for a few months but I'll try to find a subletter right away.”

XxXxX

Another day, after they’ve both been silent for a while and it seems like he’s run out of songs to sing, Arya asks him when he realized his feelings for her. It’s random, even she’ll admit that much to herself, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t ridiculously curious.

“Right around that one day in detention.”

“The _first day_ we met?” she asks, her voice taking on a surprised tone. He’d been the student aide in her zero hour detention, and all she recalls is that when her 50 minutes of imprisonment were over, he mumbled something along the lines of _sweet shirt_ as she walked out the door. He found her at lunch four hours later and launched into a full-blown conversation about Black Flag.

“No, the semester after that. When we had detention _together_.”

\---

Second semester of her ninth grade year, his junior year. They started to hang out the previous semester after he word vomited out his love for Henry Rollins and early 80s punk rock at her during lunch, but that literature class they were in was their first class together. It was technically a class for juniors, but Arya and a couple other freshmen and sophomore were allowed to test into it. The teacher had given them a book report assignment, a fairly simple one, with a few caveats. They were told to read whatever they pleased outside of class, and if they could, to not share with their friends what their choice was. They'd give a report in front of the class three weeks later.

What they had not been told until after they’d chosen books, was that their reports were to be presented in character.

She’d texted that morning, the day she’d signed up to do her book report presentation, just saying she was running late and didn’t need a ride. She walked into class a few minutes late, and the classroom exploded in an uproar of applause, gasps, and _ohmygods_ , but all he could do was stare. His Arya, the one who played Super Smash Bros with him and passed him whatever tools he needed when they spent their lunch hour in auto shop, _that_ Arya wore nothing but jeans, t-shirts with band names that hadn’t been popular for a decade, bottle green Chucks, and the exact same dark grey hoodie every single day, the one that was frayed around the bottom hem, with the thumb holes he watched her cut open during lunch. He’d wondered if it was her only one, but with how well off her family was, surely they could afford to buy her more.   
  
His Arya had shaved the hair off the sides of her head - sometime between yesterday when he gave her a ride home and this morning. The remaining hair was spiked up into a tall mohawk and it made him wonder how many bottles of Elmer’s Glue she went through to get it to stick like that. Her arms were bare and she was wearing a black and white striped tank top, the back cut purposely so as to show off part of the dragon tattoo on her back, one he’s willing to bet she conned Bran into drawing on with a Sharpie. Instead of the jeans she always wore, she had on tight black leather pants and matching calf high lace up Docs, the one item he recognized as hers. The pants are about enough to do him in right there, shiny and tight against her thighs, they highlighted the curves and hips he’d never realized were there.

  
She looked like a fever dream his mind had pieced together out of his raging hormones and too many hours of listening to The Dead Kennedys on repeat.

Arya was always an amazing public speaker, and her book report on _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ was phenomenal. Well, at least he assumed it was, with the way the entire class and teacher applauded at the end, but he really doesn't know. Everything she’s said has seemed to float past his ears, and he couldn’t keep his damn eyes off her. _Fuck_. He thought about everyone else in school ogling her all day, all the attention she’d receive, and an idea popped into his head. Her locker is just around the corner and he followed her there after class.

“Wanna ditch?”

“The rest of the day?” she asked. If he’d said _skip_ , it’d have been a no-brainer, her next class was econ and it was always about as interesting as watching paint dry. She’d gladly go hide out somewhere for that hour, maybe her usual spot - the viewing balcony that overlooked the pool, it was only ever used for spectators during swim meets. _Ditch_ though, that meant just up and leaving. “It's only nine am.”

“We could get breakfast,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “And then, I dunno, just fuck around all day?”

When she grabbed his hand, he knew she was in. The rest of the day was spent in a dollar store Winterfell version of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off - instead of a fancy French restaurant, they stopped in at a hole-in-the-wall diner known for good coffee and better pancakes. They make do with the art museum on the UW Winterfell campus, and while there’s no parades in sight, they watched the university marching band drumline practicing. The biggest difference was probably between Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari and Gendry’s twenty year old Honda Accord - the only similarity being that they were both red.

Neither of them are sure who it was that ratted them out, but they’re both called into the assistant principal’s office early the next morning and they spend the next two weeks’ worth of zero hour detention together, under the not-so-watchful sleepy eye of an older history teacher. They passed notes back and forth, about how it was worth it, and Arya was nothing short of a ball of excitement, trying to think of other random adventures they could go on when they should’ve otherwise been in class.

That excitement was what made him realize she had him wrapped around her finger, although he did convince her that weekends may have been better instead constantly ditching school.

\---

“What about you?” Gendry asks.

“Me? I think it was a little more gradual… but I will say I was head over fucking heels for you already when we went to your prom.”

“Do you ever wish we'd figured this out earlier?”

Arya doesn’t need to mull over her reply at all. “Of course I do, but who knows. Maybe we weren't ready before.” Surprised, he stops walking and turns towards her. His face says that he’s not following. “We were _kids_ , Gendry. Think if we'd been together in high school. Would we've just ended up that high school sweetheart couple who breaks up in college?”

“No way we’ll ever know now.”

“Exactly but - no, it's silly,” she pauses, changing her mind. “I'm not gonna say it.”

“You have to now, that's the rules.”

“I was just gonna say that, love isn't always on time.”

A moment passes between them, and she can practically see the gears rotating in his head. "Toto, Hold the Line.”

“Fuck, you're good at this.”

With a shit-eating grin on his face, he comments, “You've been saying that about me a lot lately, haven't you?”

Arya rolls her eyes. “Shut up and keep walking.”

XxXxX

They stop in a small town, beautiful scenic Montclare, according to the sign they pass as they walk down the main road. It’s their last restocking point before the trip is over, and Arya volunteers to stop in at the post office and pick up their supplies, as long as Gendry locates a laundromat and gets a quick load of laundry started. Agreeing, he sets off to explore the town, finding the laundromat easily - and the Montclare Jewelers, family-owned since 1947, next door. An idea takes shape in his head and he quickly throws their clothes into a washer. He slams the washer door shut with his hip, presses the start button, and makes his way one shop over, with a very important goal in mind.

They make camp just outside of town that night, a trailside campsite big enough for nearly ten tents, but deserted save for them. Over the past couple months, there’s been so many unforgettable views, sunrise at Conqueror’s Point, waterfalls they didn’t know would be there, and high mountain lakes with water so clear everything around it reflected on the surface, but Gendry decides this one is his favorite.

That night, it’s warmer than usual, despite the cloudless night sky. A bright full moon illuminates the lake, which would’ve been calm if Arya hadn’t waded in minutes ago, stripping down to her sensible underwear while he watched from the shore. Her silhouette is outlined from the moonlight, and he considers himself the luckiest man alive that he’s allowed to watch her - strong legs and long arms, hips that curves out just slightly, the top few ribs that become a bit more prominent when she stretches her arms overhead. She dips under the water, wetting her hair, then pushes it back off her face when she surfaces. A complete mess, he can’t keep his eyes off her. He always wants to think she’s perfect, but she’s not, and he loves her all the more for her smart mouth and stubbornness, her hard edges, and the soft spot she inexplicably has for him. She stands fully and walks to leave the lake, and he’s reminded for a moment of some Bond Girl walking out of a pool or the ocean, until she pauses to pick seaweed and some leaves out of her hair. Gendry leans over to his pack on the ground next to him, grabs a towel and then reaches into a side pocket, pulling out what he’d bought earlier before she’s close enough to notice.

“There’s either fish in there or the Loch Ness monster, but _something_ brushed up against my leg and—” She stops immediately when she sees the ring box in his hand. “ _Gendry_.” They’re already technically engaged, so she’d never expected to have such a reaction to the sight of that little box. She’d vehemently deny it if anyone asked.

“I picked it up in town today,” he explains, passing her the microfiber towel first. “Jewelry store right next to the laundromat. Convenient, eh?”

“I’m in my undies with soaking wet lake water hair, and this is how you want the memory of giving me an engagement ring to go?” He’s still sitting on the same rock as he has since she ran into the lake. She takes the offered towel and begins to dry off.

“Yes,” he states firmly, the finality in his voice causing her to pause and look down at him. “I want a memory of you, in your underwear, towel drying your hair that had leaves in it, after swimming in the most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen. Not much has ever been perfect with us, and I don’t need perfect memories as long as you’re in them.” Gendry stands, taking the towel and wrapping it around her torso so her hands are free. He flicks open the ring box and holds it out so she can see.

Her jaw drops and her eyes flit up and down between his and the ring. It’s the least traditional ring she’s ever seen, hand-poured gold band around three different sized pieces of raw turquoise. There’s no setting for the stones, they’re completely encased in the metal.

“Do you…?”

Her reply is immediate. “It’s gorgeous. And turquoise,” she adds, acknowledging that it’s her birthstone, a choice she knows was intentional. She smiles up at him and holds her left hand out for him, wiggling her fingers. “Care to do the honors?”

She can see his hand shaking as he pulls the ring out from the little notch cut in the velvet, and she brings her right hand up to his to steady it. “No need for nerves anymore, I already said yes.”

He slips the ring on and she takes a few steps around him, then stands on top of the rock, matching his height, making it easy to wrap her arms around his neck. She kisses him then, slow and practiced, as if they’ve got all the time in the world, and when she breaks away she pulls him flush to her and rests her head on his shoulder, looking out at the reflection on the lake.

Her hair smells like lake water and campfire, and her wet sports bra is getting Gendry’s shirt damp where they’re pressed together. He still holds on tightly, and she stretches her left arm out to look at the ring. _It’s gonna be a long while before I get tired of looking at that._

It fits perfectly.

XxXxX

It ends on a Wednesday. Three months on the trail and it ends on a Wednesday afternoon with them emerging from the woods and into an unpaved parking lot. It’s not surprising that the parking lot is almost empty, middle of the week and all. Arya cranes her head around, trying to see the car she’s searching for until she realizes it’s hidden behind a large extended cab pickup - but Meera’s trusty old Subaru Outback wagon is there waiting for them, just as promised. In a split second, her and Bran are both sprinting towards Arya, enveloping her in a crushing hug and then reaching out to pull Gendry in as well.

Meera opens up the flap on her messenger bag, pulling out a string of cut-out party banner letters in the primary colors, the kind you buy at party supply stores that usually spell out ‘happy birthday’ or ‘it’s a girl,’ but in this case read ‘FINALLY DONE.’

They take pictures by the trailhead sign, holding the banner stretched out in between them, and then Bran props the phone up on tripod and takes one of all four of them, knowing full well that their mother would like it. As Arya folds the banner back up, she’s struck with an idea.

“Hey, Meera,” she calls out. “You don’t happen to have the rest of the alphabet handy, do you?”

“Sure do, bag’s in the back of the car. What’s up?”

Gendry seems to have picked up on Arya’s plan, and he walks up next her, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Show them.” His voice is soft, and she holds her left hand out to display the ring. “We, um, sort of jumped ahead a few steps in our relationship.”

After high-pitched squeals and hugs from Meera, and a wide-eyed stare of disbelief and string of happy swearing from Bran, she finds the letters she wants, snapping them together. She shows Gendry and gets a wide smile and nod of approval.

“Wanna take one more picture, Bran?” She holds up the sign to him and he almost chokes when he sees it: ENGAGED AS FUCK. “Ya know, for Instagram.”

“Alright, but you’re the one that’s gonna have to explain this to mom, I know she follows you.”

They pose once more in front of the trailhead, holding the banner out in front of them, and when Bran counts to three, Gendry dips down to kiss her. Arya posts the photo quickly and they pile into the car, heading back toward civilization, warm showers, and Meera’s promise of pizza for dinner.

Liked by **meera_inthereeds** and **103 others**

**arya_snark** : so… turns out a lot of things can change when you go for a hike... #engagedaf #awholenewadventure #surprisesurprise #sorrymom

**lemoncakeslady** : HOLY SHIT

XxXxX

**Almost a year later**

It’s been an incredibly long last twenty-four hours. They fly from Kings Landing, to LAX, and then get on a puddle jumper to Fresno, arriving just around the time when all the real restaurants are closing and their choices are limited to fast food. There’s also nothing inside the airport still open, and Gendry has his heart set on In-n-Out Burger, so they Uber there, surprising the young kid driving with their giant backpacks. They have him keep the tab running while they order and pay, then drive right back to the airport. The first meal they have on this trip is cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes, eaten on the floor of the airport, near where their bus will pick them up at some ungodly hour in the morning. Thankfully, they’re both exhausted from travel and manage to catch a few hours of sleep before the charter bus picks them up at 3:40am, and both continue to nap as it makes its up Highway 41 towards Yosemite.

A few hours later they arrive, stepping off the bus hand in hand, and wait patiently as the driver exits and opens the sliding doors on the bottom. Their packs have shifted around, but Arya scans the compartment and quickly picks out the red bandanas tied to the tops of theirs. She nudges Gendry and points to his, and they both pull out their respective packs then move out of the way of the few other people there.

They both use the restrooms at the lodging near the bus stop and meet back outside a few minutes later to fill up with water. It’s a short walk down the side of the road from Half Dome Village to the Happy Isles Trailhead, and Arya excitedly points out the trailhead sign as soon as it comes into view. Despite that she’s seen it a half a million times by now, what with all the months of planning they’ve done, her stomach is still filled with butterflies, unable to believe that they’re doing this again.

“Should we?” Gendry asks, and when Arya looks over she sees he’s got his phone out for a picture.

She nods in agreement, and gets the attention of a pair of ladies on a bench nearby, asking if they’ll take a picture for them. They pose to the side of the sign and thank them, then take a moment at the trailhead. “You ready, Gen?” She adjusts one of the straps on her pack slightly. “211 miles to Mount Whitney.”

“Gimme one sec.” His phone is still out and she watches as he swipes around a bit, his face screwing up in thought while he types something out. “Okay, now we’re good.”

“Were you just on Instagram?”

He shrugs, “Maybe,” but the shit eating grin on his face gives it all away. Sometime over the past year he’s managed to get obsessed with Instagram, and she remembers how excited he was when he thought up a wedding hashtag for them, #starkinfestedwaters, and how salty he was when she vetoed it. _It sounds like a movie mash-up of Jaws and 28 Days Later, Gendry, for Christ’s sake._ Somehow there were still over a dozen pictures tagged that way, she blames Hot Pie and Rickon.

“No more social media or I’ll leave you in the woods.”

“Geez, we’ve only been married like four days, you can’t get rid of me that easy. I wanna be with you everywhere.”

“Fleetwood Mac,” Arya answers. “That’s an easy one.” He stuffs his phone into an elastic pouch on the side of his pack, and she grabs his hand immediately after, pulling him towards the trail.

XxXxX

Liked by **lemoncakeslady** and **52 others**

****gendry_waters** : **Heading out on the John Muir Trail from Happy Isles this morning with @arya_snark 211 miles to go, see you all in 3 weeks #honeymoonhikers #herewegoagain #johnmuirtrail #jmt 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Thank you to everyone who stuck with me. For a fic that started just as a little drabble I wrote for tumblr and ignored forever (like two years??), I'm really pleased with how it all came out.


End file.
